AN INTERRUPTED HOLIDAY
Some twelve hours later Cleek had the pleasure of learning through some
of Scotland Yard's scouts that Margot had departed for the Continent.
Evidently she had recognized defeat for the time being, and Ailsa
having, at Cleek's own advice, gone down to Mrs. Narkom to rest her
quivering nerves, Cleek himself thought it only right to give Dollops
the holiday his action had earned him. Had it not been for his ingenuity
things would have gone very differently. The charm of the river now
called to him, and as there was no urgent summons from the Yard, Cleek
ordered Dollops to pack a couple of bags, to that young gentleman's
delight and excitement, while he went out to ring up the owners of a
motor-launch standing in the upper reaches of the Thames.
"Unless Mr. Narkom rings me up, we'll have a few days in Paradise," he
said, not knowing of the secret fear already in Dollops' breast lest Mr.
Narkom should do that very thing. But once left to himself, Dollops,
with an uneasy twinge of conscience, promptly lifted the receiver off
the hook; and then set to work with a will. Had not Cleek been so
absorbed in his thoughts of Ailsa he must surely have noticed the almost
frantic haste with which his faithful henchman packed up clothes and
provisions and literally bundled him into a taxi to Waterloo, en route
for Kingston, without so much as stopping for refreshment.
This is how it happened, therefore, that on reaching Kingston Station
both felt disinclined to proceed farther until they had had lunch. Faggs
Island was the place Cleek selected, and Dollops, who had long wished to
see that famous resort, seconded the motion heartily. And it was just
this small circumstance which brought the case of the Fire Opal to
Cleek's notice, for as they came slowly out into the roadway and turned
into one that would lead them to the river, there sounded in the
distance the whirring hum of a speeding motor. As it swung down on them
Cleek instinctively looked over his shoulder. The effect was most
startling for everyone concerned, for it proved to be a Scotland Yard
car, with the familiar figure of Lennard at the wheel.
"Cleek!" shouted Narkom as the car came to a standstill and he sprang
out and seized his famous ally by the arm. "It's just like magic. Here I
have been trying desperately to telephone you"--here Dollops turned a
dull brick-red and swallowed noisily--"and here you are, on the spot,
within half an hour of where you're wanted--more urgently than anywhere
else in the world. It's magnificent!"
"That's more than I say, you incorrigible spoil-sport!" returned Cleek,
with a little sigh of resignation. "Another two minutes, and Dollops and
I would have been carried away safe and sound out of your clutches.
Well, it can't be helped. Here you are, and I must be at your command.
Dollops, cut along to the launch and lay in a supply of provisions--you
know best what to buy. Well, what is it this time, Narkom? I can fairly
see the excitement bubbling out of you. Out with it."
Mr. Narkom sighed heavily. Then he pushed Cleek into the car, which
headed back to Hampton Court at a great pace.
"It means two thousand pounds to you, my dear fellow, if you can solve
the riddle. It's the British Government that's going to pay it," he said
after a slight pause.
"Phew! Sounds interesting. Where does it begin?"
"It began for me," returned the Superintendent, grimly, "at one o'clock
this morning, in Soho, when I was dragged out of bed to investigate a
murder. It had evidently been committed within an hour of its discovery,
for the body was still warm. It was, to all appearances, that of a
Hindu; but subsequent examination showed it to be a man of European
birth, French, probably. Funny thing about him was the colour of his
eyes. One was black and the other brown. As for the Hindu part of it,
he was as white as a man could be save for his stained face and hands.
There were no means of identification, so I had to let the case slide. I
don't say it has anything to do with the present case; still, the
details are so strange:----"
"What is this case?" asked Cleek, abruptly. "Forgery, swindling,
robbery?"
"Worse," returned the Superintendent. "It's murder--cunning, almost
supernatural. Perpetrated by some diabolical means in the dark without
any apparent cause. Three people, all inhabitants of the same house,
have died within a year, and in spite of the fact that the subsequent
autopsy has pointed to a case of heart failure, and there is not the
least trace of any wound or blemish, yet each one who has been done to
death would appear to have died just as that Syrian priest swore that
whoever attempted to touch the stone should die--accursed, in darkness,
and alone."
"What's that?" said Cleek, sitting up sharply. "A Syrian priest, a
stone--by that, I presume, a precious stone of some sort--and three
mysterious deaths! A regular melodrama! Let us have the details, please.
What is this stone, and to whom does it belong?"
"Sir Thomas Montelet was the first European owner. I dare say you have
heard of him; he is, or rather was, a noted collector of Oriental
_objets d'art_, and I remember I had to lend him official protection
some years ago, on the occasion of his moving his treasures to the
country house to which we are now going."
"And it is this man who has been murdered?"
"No. Sir Thomas died peacefully in his bed. I rather fancy, though, you
were in Paris during the case of that Red Crawl business. No, it is his
widow, Lady Montelet, who is the latest and most important victim."
"Why most important?" asked Cleek, a note of irritation in his voice.
"Are not all lives equal in the sight of the law?"
"True enough, my dear fellow, but by the good lady's death the British
Government will inherit many valuable Eastern jewels, bequeathed by Sir
Thomas in his will, and amongst them is this very jewel which has now
been stolen--a yellow, reddish stone, known as a fire opal."
"H'm. Years ago, if I remember rightly," said Cleek, "Sir Thomas went
out from England to investigate some ancient Assyrian discoveries, and
brought back a unique opal known as the Eye of Ashtaroth--the Astarte of
the Assyrians. Is that the stone in question?"
"The very one. Montelet not only made some perfectly astounding
discoveries, but brought back many wonderful relics of the past,
bequeathing them, on his death, to his widow, and thence to the nation
which had so generously rewarded him. He took special pains for the
safety of this great stone, the Fire Opal, for which a steel and
cast-iron temple was made, a life-size model of the one from which it
had been wrested--for which act an old native had cursed him up hill and
down dale. Sir Thomas did not take any notice, however, but continued to
remove and collect other and various treasures of the East, sending them
to his deserted wife at home."
"Deserted wife! What do you mean?"
"Well, perhaps that does sound rather strange, Cleek, though it really
does describe the case. For years and years he spent most of his time
out of England, travelling in the Far East, and never returning home at
all. Considering he had made a second marriage, and a love match at
that, this seemed rather strange. However, he made it up to her, as far
as he could, in the end, for he brought back this Fire Opal himself and
remained in England. Then he left the second Lady Montelet every stick
and shilling in the world, even to the exclusion of his only son,
Hubert, who was thus left dependent on his stepmother. Luckily, they
fairly idolized each other, so it hasn't made much difference to him."
Cleek threw up his chin with a quick gesture.
"I see, I see," he said. "Left them with plenty of money, an historic
and fate-laden jewel, if I know anything of precious stones, to say
nothing of an Assyrian curse! Pleasant little heritage that! Did Lady
Montelet believe in the curse?"
"According to young Montelet, she did not. Indeed, she was more angry
than frightened when the other two deaths occurred----"
"Ah, yes, what of them? Who were they?"
"One was a servant, a young parlour-maid, who was by mistake shut up in
that ungodly temple and was found dead at the foot of the altar
apparently killed by fright. The second was a French girl visiting Lady
Montelet. She appeared to have been killed by the same mysterious
agency. Then the servants got to saying that one of the statues of the
collection came to life at night, and had been seen walking down a
passage near the temple. Sheer nonsense, of course, but it so angered
the old lady that in the face of the strongest opposition she announced
her intention of sitting up all night in the Assyrian temple, to prove
that nothing would happen. What did happen Heaven alone knows, but she
was evidently found dead before the altar, just as the others were; for
I received a wire asking me to come immediately. I was just trying to
find you when Providence threw you in my path. So there's the case in a
nutshell, Cleek."
"H'm! and one with a pretty tough kernel," responded Cleek, grimly.
"However, we shall get to the bottom some day, as the stone said when it
fell in the well. Hallo! we're slowing down, aren't we? Where are we?"
"The old 'Crown Inn' I expect. I told young Montelet I would wait there
for him if I could get hold of the right man to take up the case. So if
you don't mind jumping out.... And as to disguise--Lord, what a miracle
you are! If I hadn't actually known it was you, I should declare it was
another man."
"It is," responded Cleek, blandly. "For the next few hours you will have
the pleasure of the company of Mr. George Headland."
The car drew up with a little jerk before the inn door, and two minutes
later Cleek was listening to the story of the case as told by Mr. Hubert
Montelet, a fair-faced, boyish, impulsive, and altogether lovable young
fellow of two-and-twenty.