MORE DISAPPOINTMENTS.
The “Hornby Cross,” having accomplished its voyage in safety, was viewed
with considerable interest as it was being manœuvred into Millwall Dock,
whither it had brought a cargo of grain from India. Among the onlookers
were a few whose attention was the result of curiosity alone; but the
greater part of the small crowd assembled at the dock gates had business
of some sort on board. There were relatives and friends of the returning
seafarers, eagerly looking out for their own folk, and anxious to see
them again after their long voyage. And there were numbers of touters
for nearly every trade that can be patronised by seafarers. There was
also Mr. Gay, a detective whom we have met before, talking to an elderly
clergyman and a slim young man, whose clear blue eyes keenly watched the
operations on board the incoming vessel.
Presently she was near enough to be boarded by the most venturous
spirits in the crowd, and these were soon clambering about in what
seemed a very reckless fashion to those unused to the sight. Among the
first to touch the “Hornby Cross’s” deck was Mr. Gay, and he at once
made for the captain, who was standing on the bridge, contentedly
watching the operations of the dock pilot, into whose charge the vessel
had been put.
“Good morning, sir,” said Mr. Gay, touching his hat in greeting. “I am
glad to see you safe in port. My name is Gay. You will have received the
note I sent you by the pilot this morning.”
“Your name is Gay, is it? Well, I guess you won’t feel like your name
for a bit. Your note came too late, sir.”
“The deuce! Do you mean to say that Morton, as he calls himself, has
given us the slip?”
“I do. You see, I would have done my best to help you if I had had only
half a notion who my passenger was. As I hadn’t, you can’t be surprised
at being done.”
“But the man really started from Bombay with you?”
“Yes, he really did. But he didn’t choose to come all the way with us,
and I had no reason for supposing that he was wanted here. We had to
call at Gibraltar for bunker coals, and Mr. Morton expressed a fancy to
remain behind and explore Spain. I reckon he had funked about coming to
England, and thought the Spaniards would be better chums with a rogue.”
“My clients will be dreadfully disappointed. Everything seems to go
against them.”
“It seems to me that in this case it is your own stupidity that has gone
against them. You must excuse the remark, but it expresses what I
think.”
“And in what way have I been stupid, may I ask?”
“Well, you might have found out where we were likely to bunker. The
owners would have given you the information. Then you could have come
out to intercept your man before he had a chance to clear, instead of
waiting here expecting him to walk into the trap set for him. Or you
could have cabled to me to detain him. But, of course, these little
items are things a detective wouldn’t be likely to think of.”
“I feel quite grateful for your sympathy in my disappointment, Captain
Criddle, but feel it necessary to correct you in a few particulars. Even
though only a detective, I was struck with the idea that it would be
wise to consult the owners. Their information left only the course
adopted open to me. I was told that you had probably already taken in
bunker coals at Malta, and that you would not be calling at any other
place before your arrival in England. It is only six days since we
learned that Morton, or, more correctly speaking, Stavanger, was on
board your ship, and either meeting him, or cabling to have him detained
was out of the question. You received instructions through the pilot at
Gravesend, and I fail to see what further steps could have been taken
for the man’s capture, unless we had been more accurately informed of
your proceedings by your owners.”
“Oh, well, it isn’t their fault, as they knew no different. But I
haven’t time to talk any more, as I have a swarm of people to see. Good
afternoon.”
Thus peremptorily dismissed, Mr. Gay found it necessary to return to
shore without the prize he had hoped to land with him, and his
professional chagrin was mingled with real sorrow for the bitter
disappointment of his clients. He was not a little angry with Captain
Criddle for his want of sympathy and his unflattering insinuations.
These were, no doubt, prompted by the reluctance felt by most people to
have anything to do with a criminal case in any shape or form, and
Detective Gay was not far wrong when he suspected Captain Criddle of
being rather pleased than otherwise that the expected arrest had not
taken place on board his ship.
That the Corys were deeply dismayed is a foregone conclusion, and that
Mr. Cory thought it useless to make further investigations for a while
is not surprising.
“The man won’t have stayed in Gibraltar, that is certain,” he said. “And
if we were to go there, and follow up the trail, it is doubtful if we
could ever track him and secure his return to England. So long as he
chooses to remain in Spain, so long is he safe. Even if he leaves there
I’m afraid his pursuit would be but a wild goose chase. His predilection
for aliases will make identification difficult, and he seems to possess
some abnormal instinct that cautions him against coming danger.”
“I think myself, sir,” observed Mr. Gay, “that he won’t come back to
England, at all events, until he has run through his plunder. Even then
he may be quietly supplied with money by his father, whom we believe to
to be in league with him. If I were you I would not move in the matter
for a while, in order to lull all suspicion of pursuit. If we can
stumble on Captain Cochrane in the meantime, so much the better. We may
be able to prove Mr. Riddell’s innocence through him.”
“And if we do not stumble on Captain Cochrane?” inquired Annie, whose
assumption of masculine garb made it more imperative upon her to keep
her composure than would have been the case had she been figuring simply
as Annie Cory.
“In that case it will be difficult to bring conviction to the minds of
judge and jury, if you decide to move for a fresh inquiry.”
“But the ring which the present captain of the ‘Merry Maid’ is bringing
home with him?”
“That may prove valuable evidence, or it may not, just as it happens.”
“It is bound to be valuable evidence when it is identified as part of
the stolen property, as it is sure to be.”
“By whom?”
“By whom? Why, by the Stavanger Bros., or by Mr. Riddell, who
inventoried the goods the night they disappeared.”
“Well, I don’t want to dishearten you too much; but I feel it my duty to
show you how difficult the case really is. No doubt Mr. Riddell could
recognise this diamond ring. But would his word be accepted? He was
convicted of the robbery by overwhelming evidence, which it is now to
his interest to negative by every means in his power. It is, therefore,
natural that he should try to remove the onus of guilt from his own
shoulders to that of another, by swearing to property traced to that
other’s possession. Pray, don’t be angry! I am not stating a private
conviction that Mr. Riddell would swear falsely, but that a
chuckle-headed judge or jury would be likely to think so. When a man is
once down, the world likes to keep him down.”
“But,” put in Mr. Cory, “there are the Brothers Stavanger, who would
know the ring as well as Mr. Riddell, presumably better.”
“And how are we to guarantee that they will aid the ends of justice by
identifying that which will help to prove the son of the one and the
nephew of the other to be a thief, a perjurer, and an absconding
vagabond? The reputation of both the firm and the family depends upon
Hugh Stavanger’s safety. I firmly believe that they have already done
some false swearing in the matter. Is it likely that they will reverse
their former tactics and play into our hands now?”
“I’m afraid you are right. Still, we have several things to fall back
upon that will help us, even if the evidence of the ring proves
valueless.”
“It cannot prove valueless,” said Annie now, with considerable
decision. “Captain Gerard will relate how he became possessed of it, and
there is his letter to us by way of corroboration of his evidence. The
Maltese jeweller will also help us, if necessary. So, even if we cannot
bring the real culprits up for judgment, we can move for a new trial,
and even if judge and jurors are as addlepated and obstinate as you
would have us to believe, they must see that the case is much deeper and
more complicated than they supposed. And if it is their natural
propensity to doubt the word of people accused of crime, they will be as
likely to exercise it upon the man now accused. Mr. Peary, our
solicitor, must push things on without delay, and we will rely upon such
evidence as we can produce, if we can secure a new trial. Meanwhile,
there is still time to do some active work, and a plan I have in my head
may result in the discovery of a clue to Hugh Stavanger’s whereabouts.”
What that plan was Annie would not disclose, though pressed upon the
point both by her father and the detective. The latter was very much
annoyed at the turn events had taken, and was by no means sanguine as to
the ultimate results of the investigations that were being pursued on
Harley Riddell’s behalf. But he went away with a higher admiration of
Annie Cory’s pluck than he had ever felt for that of any woman in his
life.
“She is game to the core,” he thought, “and if anybody can help the poor
fellow in gaol, it is his sweetheart, who, it seems to me, cannot be
daunted. She is one in a million. Most girls would have sat down and
fretted, instead of trying to remedy the evil. Well, good luck to her,
say I. If a girl like that doesn’t deserve to succeed, nobody does.”
From which remarks it may be gathered that Mr. Gay was not one of those
who, to cover their discomfiture, would begrudge success to another,
because he or she did not happen to be in the profession.
A few weeks later the “Merry Maid” was safely docked again, and Annie,
accompanied by her father, and still figuring as Mr. Ernest Fraser, was
sitting in the cabin of the steamer talking to Captain Gerard. They had
awaited his arrival at the dock, being too impatient to stay at home
until he had time to visit them.
His face lengthened considerably as he listened to the long account of
disappointment and failure they had to give him.
“Well, I’m hanged if ever I knew anything like it,” he said at last, in
a tone of great vexation. “I thought everything was plain sailing, and
never dreamt that Stavanger would alter his mind about coming on to
England. You can’t touch him in Spain, and for anything we know he may
stick there. I wonder where Cochrane is. He must have taken the alarm,
too.”
“We hope to be able to help the case considerably by means of the ring
you wrote to us about,” observed Mr. Cory.
“Well, the imp of mischief seems to be at work,” said the captain,
emphasising his vexation by an oath. “Even the ring will be no use as
evidence now. At Malta we coaled, coming home. There I met an old chum,
who, like myself, was on his first voyage as master. I’m afraid we both
jubilated till we were half seas over. I was cutting a dash with the
diamond ring at the time. My friend offered to go on board my ship with
me. As we were being rowed to the ship he noticed my ring, and made some
remark about it. I pulled it off to show it to him. Whether it was his
fault or mine I hardly know, but between us we let the ring drop into
the water, with the result that it is lost beyond recovery.”