THE DIAMOND NECKLACE SCANDAL
I never heard Lord Leconbridge address the House of Lords, but it has
been said that every sentence he uttered required half a dozen
marginal notes, that his speeches were the concentrated essence of his
vast knowledge, and, without annotation, were quite incomprehensible
to those who were less familiar with the subject. I understood the
truth of this when I was brought in contact with him over the affair
of the diamond necklace, a sensation which set fashionable London
gossiping all the season, and, according to some people, has never
been cleared up satisfactorily.
I can give the story Lord Leconbridge told me in a few lines:
With his wife and Mr. Rupert Lester, his son by his first marriage, he
attended a reception at the Duchess of Exmoor's, in Park Lane. Lady
Leconbridge was wearing the famous diamonds. He was about to present
Jacob Hartman, the banker, to his wife, when he noticed that the
necklace was gone. His wife was quite unconscious of the fact till
that moment. A search was instituted, but without result, and in the
few hours which had elapsed between the time of the loss and my
interview with him nothing had been heard of the jewels.
The story, as I told it three days later to Christopher Quarles, was
an edition with marginal notes, the result of investigation and
questions put to many people.
"I am interested in Lord Leconbridge," said the professor; "he is one
of the few men who count. Whether I shall get interested in his family
jewels is another matter. Still, we happen to be in the empty room,
and Zena is here to ask absurd questions; so tell your story, Wigan."
"When Lady Leconbridge came down to dinner that evening she was
wearing pearls. As she entered the drawing-room her husband admired
her appearance and her dress, but suggested that the diamonds would be
more suitable than the pearls. She questioned his taste, and appealed
to her stepson. This only appeared to make her husband more
determined, and Lady Leconbridge went upstairs and changed the pearls
for the diamonds. The jewels were certainly not lost on the way to
Park Lane, for the Duchess of Exmoor noticed them five minutes before
they were missing. The loss was discovered by Lord Leconbridge when he
was about to present Jacob Hartmann to his wife. The reception was a
semi-political one; a footman says he knew everyone who passed through
the hall; and I have ascertained that the known thieves, who might be
able to deal with such stones as these, were not at work that night. A
curious story comes from a housemaid. On the chance of catching a
glimpse of some of the guests, she was looking down from a dark corner
of the stairs on to a corridor which was only dimly lighted, not being
used much that evening, when she heard the low voices of a man and
woman talking eagerly. The woman was either afraid or angry, and the
man seemed excited. Then she saw a man come quickly along the
corridor, and the next moment there was the sound of broken glass.
She did not know who he was, and the woman she did not see at all. The
servant thought no more of the incident until she heard that the
diamonds were missing. The window of a small room opening out of this
corridor was found broken, and I find ample evidence that it was
broken from inside. A thief might have escaped that way, but it would
be a difficult task."
"Who first told you that Lady Leconbridge was wearing pearls when she
went down to dinner?" asked Quarles.
"Her maid."
"Lord Leconbridge did not mention this fact?"
"No; but later he corroborated the maid's story; as did also his wife
and his son."
"What is Lord Leconbridge's attitude?" asked Quarles.
"He is extremely irritated, rather at the annoyance caused to his wife
than at the loss of the jewels, I fancy."
"Were I Lady Leconbridge I should be something more than annoyed,"
Zena remarked.
"Ah! that's not the point, my dear," and the professor picked up an
evening paper. "At the end of a column of stuff dealing with this
robbery there is this paragraph: 'Before her marriage Lady Leconbridge
was Miss Helen Farrow, an actress, who was rapidly making a
reputation. Not long ago, it will be remembered, she played Lady
Teazle at a command performance of Sheridan's masterpiece. Her last
part was that of Mrs. Clare in Brickell's play, which was such a
success at the St. George's Theater, and her charming impersonation of
the heroine will be fresh in the public mind. Her marriage came as a
great surprise, both to the theatrical and social world.'
"A short paragraph," Quarles went on, "but with a sting in the tail of
it. People talked a great deal at the time of the marriage three years
ago. Leconbridge was called an old fool for going to the stage for a
second wife, and it was suggested that, if he must marry an actress,
he might have made a better choice. When this kind of thing is said
about a beautiful woman there are plenty of evil-minded persons to
make the worst of it. You see, Zena, there is some reason for Lord
Leconbridge's irritability."
"I do not believe there was the slightest foundation for the gossip,"
I said. "Lady Leconbridge is a most charming person."
"I know nothing about her," said Quarles, tapping the paper; "but I am
certain that this affair will revive the old gossip."
"I wonder why the duchess noticed the diamonds so particularly that
evening," said Zena.
"Probably because she had not seen them before," I answered. "Mr.
Lester told me they were seldom worn--suggested, indeed, that their
size and setting were so conspicuous as to make them rather vulgar."
"I did not know that famous family jewels could be considered vulgar,"
she returned; "but, if so, why was Lord Leconbridge so anxious that
his wife should wear them on this occasion?"
Quarles nodded and looked at me.
"A whim," I said; "hardening into a firm determination when his son
opposed him. Men are like that."
"Are father and son not on good terms, then?"
"It has been said that Lord Leconbridge worships his son," I returned.
"What age is Rupert Lester?" Zena asked.
"About twenty-five."
"And Lady Leconbridge?"
"Two or three years older."
"And Mr. Lester's support of Lady Leconbridge when she preferred the
pearls only made his father more determined that the diamonds should
be worn. I wonder----"
"Ah! that past gossip is having its effect upon your judgment," said
Quarles.
"You may put that idea out of your mind, Zena," I said. "Mr. Rupert
Lester is engaged to Miss Margery Dinneford. It is common knowledge
that old Dinneford had other views for his only daughter, but finally
allowed his opposition to be overruled. Margery Dinneford and Lady
Leconbridge are the greatest of friends."
"As a matter of fact, such an idea had not entered my mind," Zena
said. "I was wondering why Lord Leconbridge introduced Jacob Hartmann
to his wife."
"Hartmann is a very wealthy banker," I answered, "who has been
extremely useful to the Conservative Party. He is the first of his
family, so to speak, and is engaged in winning a big social position.
Since Lord Leconbridge is a very important member of the Conservative
Party, it is quite natural that such an introduction should take
place."
"Very interesting," said Quarles; "but are we really required to clear
Lady Leconbridge's character? Let us get back to the diamonds. They
were kept in the house, I presume?"
"In a safe in the wall in Lady Leconbridge's bedroom."
"The maid knew they were there?"
"Yes."
"It is a point to remember," said Quarles. "We may have to come back
to it if we find no other way out of the difficulty. The diamonds
were seldom worn, therefore we may assume that any question of suiting
the particular dress Lady Leconbridge had on that night is beside the
question. For some reason her husband wished her to wear the diamonds
on this occasion. Now, if he had reason to suppose that the jewels
were not in the safe, his determination is explained, also his
annoyance that his son should attempt to thwart him by agreeing with
Lady Leconbridge. However, the diamonds were forthcoming, and at a
certain moment the Duchess of Exmoor is able to say that Lady
Leconbridge was wearing them. Five minutes later they had disappeared.
You make a point of the fact that expert thieves were not at work that
night, Wigan. Do you imagine that an amateur could take the jewels
from the lady's neck without her knowing it?"
"You must not lay too much stress upon my point about the expert
thieves," I said. "Some gang we know nothing about may have been at
work. It certainly is possible to remove a necklace without the wearer
being aware of the fact, especially if her mind is fully occupied at
the time. In a few moments, no doubt, some movement of her body would
have caused Lady Leconbridge to discover the loss, but before this
happened her husband was beside her."
"With the banker," said Quarles. "It was at the moment that he brought
up Hartmann to present him to his wife that he noticed the diamonds
were missing. Is it not possible that Hartmann and the diamonds were
in some way connected in his mind?"
"Possible, of course, but----"
"Remember, Wigan, Lord Leconbridge did not mention the substitution of
the diamonds for the pearls to you--a curious omission. I have a
theory that the stones were to be a demonstration, a proof of
something, and that Lord Leconbridge's irritation arises from the fact
that he has not been able to give this proof."
"Proof of what?"
"Ah! that's the question, Wigan; and we have nothing at present to
help us to an answer."
"You don't suppose Hartmann was responsible for the jewels not being
there?"
"I have no fact to support such a theory."
"Do you suggest that Lady Leconbridge was as anxious that Hartmann
should not see the jewels as her husband was that he should?"
"I have not made such a suggestion. Since Leconbridge did not tell his
wife why he wanted her to wear the diamonds, he probably did not
prepare her for Hartmann's introduction. It is difficult to see what
time she would have to rob herself and conceal the spoil."
"Is Lord Leconbridge a poor man?" Zena asked.
"No," I answered; "although I dare say he has plenty of use for his
money."
"Perhaps he wanted to sell the diamonds."
"It is possible," said Quarles. "The stones were a means to some end.
Just hand me paper and a pencil, Wigan. My theory grows. Is Lady
Leconbridge still in town?"
"I believe she has gone to Grasslands, their seat in Worcestershire."
"Poor lady! The middle of the season, too. Read that, Wigan," and he
passed me the paper on which he had been scribbling. I read it aloud:
"If the person who took, or found, the diamond necklace lost on the
evening of Monday, the 14th inst., at the Duchess of Exmoor's house,
in Park Lane, will return the same to Lord Leconbridge, at 190 Hill
Street, the said person will save himself or herself all further
trouble."
"Get Lord Leconbridge's consent to insert that in the papers," said
Quarles. "If he presses you for a reason, you can say that an entirely
innocent person is likely to be saved from grave suspicion."
"If you think that Lady Leconbridge is----"
"I do not fancy I mention her name there," said Quarles sharply. "We
are after the truth; and, Wigan, when the diamonds are returned, tell
Lord Leconbridge not to mention the fact to anyone--anyone, mind,
until you have seen them. When you go to see them I want to go with
you. You must arrange that as best you can."
I had considerable difficulty in getting Lord Leconbridge to agree to
the insertion of this notice, and his reluctance certainly gave
support to part of the professor's theory. It looked as if he were
bent on concealing some point of importance.
However, he gave his consent, and the day following the appearance of
the advertisement I heard from him that the necklace had been
returned.
I had told him that when I came to see the stones it would be
necessary to bring a fellow officer with me, so there was no need to
explain Quarles's presence when we went to Hill Street.
The necklace had been packed in wadding in a small, flat, wooden box,
had come through the post, unregistered, and had been posted in
London. The writing on the brown paper covering was evidently
disguised, and might be either a man's or a woman's.
Quarles examined it with a lens, but made no comment.
"You did not expect to regain possession of the necklace so easily,
Lord Leconbridge," he said, looking at the stones.
"No."
"A curious robbery, and, since the jewels have been returned, a
curious reason for it exists, no doubt. I suppose you cannot give us
any helpful suggestion in that direction?"
"No."
"Of course, we have promised not to worry the person responsible any
further, but for our own satisfaction----" And then, after a pause, he
added: "I suppose it would be a satisfaction to you to get at the
exact truth?"
"I don't quite follow the drift of your question," said Leconbridge.
"You have the diamonds; the matter might be allowed to drop if you
have any reason to think that, by taking further steps, family affairs
might be disclosed which would cause scandal."
For a moment Leconbridge remained silent, his jaw very firmly set.
"I wish to know the exact truth," he said slowly, "but under no
circumstances must the person who has returned the diamonds suffer.
Our word is pledged."
"That is understood," Quarles said. "Let me ask one or two questions,
then--rather impertinent ones, but necessary. These stones have been
in your family a long while?"
"Three hundred years."
"They are not often worn, I believe?"
"Not often."
"And on this particular night you expressed a wish that they should be
worn?"
"I did."
"Quite natural at such an important reception," said Quarles, as
though the idea of there being a definite purpose behind the wish had
never entered his head. "Lady Leconbridge offered no objection, I
presume?"
"She preferred the pearls, but she changed them at my request."
"You were not in the habit of keeping the jewels at your banker's?"
"No; they were kept in a safe in my wife's room."
"Rather risky," said Quarles. "To an outsider it seems foolish to keep
such jewels constantly in the house, especially when they are so
seldom worn. Have you ever contemplated selling the diamonds?"
"Never."
"Has Lady Leconbridge at any time suggested that you should?"
"Certainly not!"
"You are prepared to swear that your wife wore this necklace at the
Duchess of Exmoor's reception?" said Quarles, holding up the jewels.
"I am."
"It only shows how risky it is to keep such valuables in the house.
These stones are not diamonds, but paste."
"What!"
Well might Lord Leconbridge start forward and look at the necklace. I
did the same myself.
"Very well executed, but paste," said Quarles.
"Do you suggest----"
"Pardon me, I have made no suggestion; I have merely stated a fact."
"It isn't true; it's absurd!"
"You may prove me right or wrong by showing the stones to an expert.
Why not show them to Jacob Hartmann?"
"Hartmann! Why to him?"
"Because I believe he knows more about precious stones than any man in
this country."
For the space of a minute Leconbridge and the professor stood looking
at each other in silence.
"I did not know that," said Leconbridge.
"I am a man of the world rather than a detective," said Quarles, his
manner suddenly changing, "and to some extent I can appreciate your
position. May I become a friendly adviser? Lock this necklace up, and
let no one know it has been returned. Take my word for it that the
stones are imitation, and leave the matter in my hands. I give you my
word that I believe, when the full explanation is forthcoming, you
will be perfectly satisfied with it. Will you trust me, Lord
Leconbridge?"
"Yes," came the firm answer, after a pause.
"It will be the work of a few hours, I hope," said Quarles, taking up
his hat; "and, of course, it is agreed that the person who returned
the jewels is not to suffer."
Quarles was thoughtful as we walked away from Hill Street, and well he
might be. He had promised a great deal, and how he was going to fulfil
that promise was beyond my comprehension.
"You expected to surprise Lord Leconbridge into an admission and were
disappointed?" I said.
"On the contrary, he told me rather more than I expected," was the
answer. "Evidently he had a purpose in wanting his wife to wear the
diamonds. It is fairly clear, I think, that he did not believe she
had parted with the necklace, therefore his purpose had to do with
some one who would be at the reception that night. Jacob Hartmann
seems to fit that part. It is wonderful, Wigan, what a lot of trouble
is caused when a person tells only half the truth."
"I can understand Lord Leconbridge's reticence," I said.
"Yes. As a fact, I wasn't thinking of Lord Leconbridge just at the
moment. My present difficulty is to decide which road to take. One is
easy, the other difficult. Let us get into this taxi. How true it is
that the longest way round is often the shortest road home."
He told the man to drive to Old Broad Street.
"A theory may lead to disaster, professor," I said.
"Ah! but we are going into the city to look for facts. I have noticed,
Wigan, that lately you have become strangely susceptible to beauty."
I wondered if he had guessed that I was in love with Zena.
"If you refer to Lady Leconbridge----"
"I don't. I speak in the abstract. Still, there exists a certain
amount of evidence against her, and your refusal to admit it has
warped your judgment in this case, I fancy. Do you know Jacob
Hartmann?"
"No."
"A very pleasant man, I am told. We are going to see him, so shall be
able to judge for ourselves. You must question; I am merely your
assistant. Your line is this: You have got Lord and Lady Leconbridge's
story, and you are not quite satisfied. You recognize that the affair
is a delicate one, but you are not going to wink at the compounding of
a felony to hush up a family scandal."
All the way to the city Quarles continued to coach me, giving me
certain points and questions which I was to lead up to gradually. I
understood why he had warned me against susceptibility to beauty, for
the whole trend of these questions was toward damning Lady
Leconbridge.
Mr. Hartmann received us in his private room, and, although reluctant
to talk about an affair which was no business of his, was willing to
give any help in his power. I repeated the story as Lord Leconbridge
had first told it to me, just the bare facts, and I dwelt upon the
delicacy of the affair.
"You did not actually see the necklace, I suppose?"
"No; and in the excitement I was not presented to Lady Leconbridge,"
Hartmann answered.
"Was she very much agitated?" I asked.
"She was curiously calm."
"I believe you know something about precious stones, Mr. Hartmann?"
"Gems are a hobby of mine," he said with a smile.
"I want your opinion. Do you think paste might deceive an expert?"
"At a casual glance--yes, if it were good paste."
"For instance," I said, "if Lady Leconbridge had been wearing the
necklace when you approached her would you have known had it been
paste?"
"I should," he answered, with a satisfied smile.
"But yours would have been only a casual glance. A man is more likely
to be interested in a woman's beauty than in the jewels she is
wearing. Besides, you would not expect Lady Leconbridge to be wearing
paste."
"I should have known," he said.
"You say Lady Leconbridge was not agitated by her loss?"
"I said she was curiously calm," he answered. "She was hiding her true
feelings, perhaps. At the moment the actress may have predominated.
You know, of course, that Lady Leconbridge was an actress before her
marriage?"
"Helen Farrow--yes. Wasn't there some gossip about her at the time of
her marriage?"
"There was."
"No truth in it, I suppose?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Evidently you think there was."
"So much smoke must have had some fire behind it, I am afraid," said
the banker. "You have hinted at the delicacy of this affair, so you
must ask me no more questions in that direction."
"Her past could hardly have any bearing on the loss of the diamonds,"
I said.
"I should have thought it might have," said Hartmann, "but then I am
not a detective."
Quarles shifted his position a little. From the moment he had sat down
he had been absorbed in the pattern of the carpet, apparently.
"You might be right, I think," I said. "One thing is certain, an
ordinary thief would have great difficulty in dealing with the
stones."
"I suppose so."
"He could only pass them to some one who could afford to bide his
time, receiving small payment for the risk he had run?"
"True."
"And it would be extremely awkward for the person in whose possession
the stones were found. That is the detective's point of view."
"Such a person might be able to prove that he was a legitimate
possessor."
"I was thinking of the Slade case," I answered. "Messrs. Bartrams, the
pawnbrokers, you know, came very badly out of that. They looked
uncommonly like receivers of property which they knew had been
stolen."
"Now I am out of my depth," said the banker, rising to bring the
interview to an end.
"Just one question," said Quarles, looking up suddenly. "Is the
necklace in one of your safes in the bank here?"
"Here! It is hardly a joking matter."
"It is not a joke, but curiosity," said Quarles. "I thought you would
keep the jewels at Messrs. Bartrams and not here at the bank. It is
rather awkward for you, Mr. Hartmann."
"What do you mean?"
"I am wondering how you will explain your possession of Lady
Leconbridge's stolen diamond necklace."
Hartmann stretched out his hand to the bell on his table.
"Ring if you want it to be known that Jacob Hartmann, the well-known
and much respected banker, is also Bartrams, who have a very bad name,
I can assure you."
"So you are here to trick me?" said Hartmann, thrusting his hands into
his pockets as though to prevent himself touching the bell.
"No; to warn you," Quarles answered. "I have not collected all the
details yet, but I think you know more of Miss Farrow than you have
admitted, and are inclined to be revengeful. You must not use the
weapon which chance has put into your hands."
"Must not?"
"It would be folly. The jewels will be applied for in due course, and
there the matter must end. A detrimental word concerning Lady
Leconbridge, and your position as sole owner of Bartrams would become
awkward, while your chance of getting a footing in the society you are
striving so hard to enter would be gone. Unfortunately for you, I know
too much. I am inclined to be generous."
"A poor argument," laughed Hartmann. "The interview is over."
"Generosity is at a discount," said Quarles. "By the first post
to-morrow Lord Leconbridge must receive from you an ample apology. You
must state emphatically that there is not a shadow of truth in the
hints you have dropped lately concerning his wife. You must also
confess that three years ago you were instrumental in spreading
utterly false reports about Helen Farrow. You may excuse yourself as
best pleases you."
"I shall send no apology."
"By the first post, please," said Quarles, "or by noon Scotland Yard
will be busy with the career of Mr. Jacob Hartmann. Good day to you."
It was not until we were in the empty room at Chelsea, Zena with us,
that the professor would discuss the case.
"The difficult way was the right one, Wigan," he said. "You are
convinced, I presume, that Hartmann has the diamonds?"
"Yes."
"Let me deal with the banker's part in the story first--some theory in
the solution, but with facts to support it. Since Leconbridge is an
important member of the Conservative Party, and Hartmann has for some
time supported the party, I asked myself why Hartmann had not met
Lady Leconbridge before. Lord Leconbridge was practically bound to
extend him hospitality; that he had not done so, in the only way
serviceable to the banker, pointed to the probability that Lady
Leconbridge would not know him. Why? Had he pestered her in her
theater days and, because she scorned him, had he been responsible for
the gossip three years ago? It was evident, I argued, that there was
some connection, in Lord Leconbridge's mind, between Hartmann and the
diamonds. The banker had done or said something to make Leconbridge
suspicious; had suggested possibly, among other things, that his wife
could not produce the diamonds were she asked to do so. The real
necklace had come into his hands, and he meant to take his revenge."
"But how did he get the jewels?" asked Zena.
"Let me clear up the banker first," said Quarles. "To-day, Wigan, he
gave himself away when he said he would know if Lady Leconbridge were
wearing paste. Of course he would know, because he had the real
stones. No doubt he would have pronounced them paste before the
assembled guests--a disclosure which might have proved disastrous to
Lady Leconbridge. Whether Hartmann knows the true story of the
necklace or not, I cannot say."
"What is the true story?" asked Zena.
"We may conjecture fairly confidently up to a certain point," said the
professor. "As Wigan told us the other day, Mr. Dinneford objected to
his daughter's engagement to Rupert Lester. Dinneford is a wealthy
man, fond of his money; Lester was a spendthrift, and in debt. Lord
Leconbridge came to the rescue and paid his debts, after a severe
interview with his son, no doubt. I will hazard a guess that the son
did not tell his father everything--sons, in these circumstances,
seldom do. The creditor left unpaid, some hireling of Hartmann's it
may be, began to press the young man--may have suggested, even, how
easily he could raise money on the diamonds, which were so seldom
worn."
"Do you mean that Lady Leconbridge helped him?" asked Zena.
"It may be," said Quarles. "Knowing how enraged her husband would be
with his son, she may have lent Lester the diamonds to pawn. The fact
that she appealed to him to support her in her choice of the pearls
lends weight to this view, but the housemaid's story of hearing an
angry woman's voice in the corridor leads me to think otherwise. I
fancy Lester must have heard his father speak to Hartmann at the
reception, and gathered that the diamonds were to be a proof of
something to the banker. Knowing Hartmann's knowledge of stones, he
went to Lady Leconbridge, took her into the corridor, where she learnt
for the first time that he had taken the real jewels, and that she was
wearing the imitation he had put in their place. She was angry,
refused to have anything to do with the deception, and then, partly to
help him, but chiefly to thwart her enemy, Hartmann, she consented to
lose the diamonds. Lester took the necklace, and, to give the idea
that a robbery had taken place, and the thief escaped, broke the
window of the small room. When he saw the advertisement he returned
the necklace, hoping the mystery would come to an end so far as the
outer world was concerned; and at the present time, I imagine, he is
either trying to raise money enough to redeem the jewels, or is
getting up his courage to confess to his father. He has probably
promised Lady Leconbridge that he will do one or the other before she
returns from Grasslands."
What Rupert Lester's confession meant to his father no one will ever
know probably. Practically, in every detail, he confirmed the
professor's theory, and possibly Quarles and I saw Lord Leconbridge
nearer the breaking point than anyone else.
Leconbridge showed us Hartmann's letter of apology.
"The snake's fangs are drawn," said Quarles. "Now you can let it be
known through the press that the necklace lost at the Duchess of
Exmoor's has been returned. It is the exact truth. The real diamonds
you may redeem as soon as you like, and I think this letter insures
that no lies will be told about your wife in future."
"But my son is----"
"He is your son, Lord Leconbridge, and our word is pledged not to make
the person who returned the necklace suffer."
Leconbridge held out his hand.
"May I give one other word of advice?" said Quarles. "This must have
been a terrible ordeal to Lady Leconbridge. If I were you I should go
to Grasslands to-day."
And the professor and I went out of the room, closing the door gently
behind us.