ROOM NUMBER 88
I accompanied him along the corridor to a private sitting-room at the
end, numbered 88, and adjoining which was a bedroom. There he placed
the suit-case upon the table, and taking a piece of paper scribbled a
receipt.
"Better post that on to Rayne at once," he suggested. "My wife will be
here in a moment. We'll have lunch later on."
All that had already happened had so astonished me that I was only
slightly surprised at finding a few moments later that the lady I had
seen at Overstow Hall, and again a couple of hours before in the
vestibule of the hotel, was Duperre's wife. He must, I think, have
told her that we had met before, for she seemed in no way astonished
at Mr. Rayne's chauffeur being presented to her.
I found her a pleasant woman, well-read, well-educated and widely
travelled. She was, too, an excellent conversationalist. And yet, all
the time we were talking, I could not help thinking of Lola, and
wondering why Duperre's wife should be in such evidence at Overstow
Hall, indeed, apparently in authority there, also why Lola seemed to
be so afraid of her.
Half an hour later I posted the receipt to Rayne, and later we all
three lunched together in the restaurant. We took our coffee upstairs
in the private room, when Duperre said, _a propos_ of nothing,
suddenly looking across at his wife:
"Hargreave may be of great use to us, Hylda." Then, addressing me
again, he said, lowering his voice and glancing at the door:
"In becoming associated with 'The Golden Face,' Hargreave, you are
more fortunate than you may think. He's a man who can, and who will,
if he likes, help you enormously in all sorts of ways--you will find
that you are more to him than a mere chauffeur. In fact, we can both
help you, that is, if you fall in with our plans. Our only stipulation
will be that you do what we tell you--_without asking any questions_.
You understand--eh?"
"I suppose," I said, smiling, "that by 'The Golden Face' you mean Mr.
Rayne?"
"Yes. He's called 'Golden Face' by his intimates. I forgot you didn't
know. He got the nick-name through going to the Bal des Quatre Arts,
here in Paris, wearing a half-mask made of beaten gold."
By that time I had become convinced that both Rayne and Duperre were
men with whom I should have to deal with the utmost circumspection.
The only person I had met since I had engaged myself to Rayne in whom
I could, I felt, place implicit confidence, was Lola.
When we had finished our coffee, Duperre excused himself, saying that
he had some letters to write, and suggested that his wife should
accompany me for a taxi drive in the Bois. This struck us both as a
pleasant manner in which to spend the afternoon, therefore Madame
retired to her room, reappearing a few moments later wearing a smart
cloak and a wonderful black hat adorned with three large handsome
feathers.
She proved herself a very amusing companion as we drove out to
Armenonville, where we sat out upon the lawn, she sipping her _sirop_
while I smoked a cigarette. She knew Paris well, it seemed, and was
communicative over everything--except concerning Rudolph Rayne.
When I put some questions to her regarding my new employer, she simply
replied:
"We never discuss him, Mr. Hargreave. It is one of his rules that
those who are his friends, as we are, preserve the strictest silence.
What we discover from time to time we keep entirely to ourselves, and
we even go to the length of disclaiming acquaintanceship with him when
it becomes necessary. So it is best not to be inquisitive. If he
discovers that you have been making inquiries he will be greatly
annoyed."
"I quite understand, Madame," I replied with a meaning smile. That she
was closely connected with the deep-laid schemes of Rudolph Rayne was
more than ever apparent. But why, I wondered, was Lola so palpably
beneath her influence?
My companion was about thirty-eight, though she looked younger, with
handsome, well-cut features, and possessing the _chic_ of a woman who
had traveled much and who knew how to wear her clothes. There was,
however, nothing of the adventuress about her. On the contrary, she
had the appearance of moving in a very select set. She was English
without a doubt, but she spoke perfect French.
I mentioned Lola, but she said:
"Remember what I have just told you about undue inquisitiveness, Mr.
Hargreave! You will find out all you want to know in due course. So
possess yourself in patience and act always with foresight as well as
with discretion."
I chanced to raise my eyes at that moment, when I noticed that a
well-dressed, black-mustached Frenchman, who wore white spats, while
passing along the terrace of the fine _al fresco_ restaurant had
halted a second to peer into Madame's face, no doubt struck by her
handsome features. She noticed it also but turned her head, and spoke
to me of something else. A woman knows instinctively when she is being
admired.
The position in which I now found myself, employed by a man who was
undoubtedly a crook of no mean order, caused me considerable
trepidation. When I had assumed the responsibility of that
innocent-looking suit-case I never dreamt that it contained Lady
Norah Kendrew's stolen jewels, as it did, otherwise I would certainly
never have attempted to pass it through the Customs at Rouen. But why
and how, I wondered, had Lola's suspicions been aroused? Why had she
warned me?
Rayne had probably sent messengers with stolen property to France by
that route before, knowing that, contrary to the shrewd examination at
Calais, the officers of certain trading ships and the _douaniers_ were
on friendly terms.
When again I raised my eyes furtively to the Frenchman in the white
spats I was relieved to find that he had disappeared. My fears that he
might be an agent of the Surete were groundless. The afternoon was
delightful as we sat beneath the trees, but Madame suddenly
recollected an engagement she had with her dressmaker at five o'clock,
so we reentered our taxi and drove back to the Porte Maillot and
thence direct to the hotel.
We found the door of the sitting-room locked, but as Madame turned the
handle Duperre's voice was heard inquiring who was there.
"Open the door, Vincent," urged his wife.
"All right! Wait a moment," was the reply.
We heard the quick rustling of paper, and after a lapse of perhaps a
minute he unlocked the door for us to enter.
"Well? Had a nice time--eh?" he asked, turning to me as he reclosed
the door and again locked it.
I replied in the affirmative, noticing that on the table was something
covered with a newspaper.
"I've been busy," he said with a grin, and lifting the paper disclosed
a quantity of bracelets, rings, pendants and other ornaments from
which the gems had been removed. During our absence he had been
occupied in removing the stolen jewels from their settings.
"Yes," I laughed. "You seem to have been very busy, Vincent!"
Beside the bent and broken articles of gold lay a little pile of
glittering gems, none of them very large, but all of first quality.
"Lady Norah wouldn't like to see her treasures in such a condition,
would she?" laughed Duperre. "We shall get rid of them to old
Heydenryck, who is arriving presently."
"Who is he?"
"A Dutch dealer who lives here in Paris. He's always open to buy good
stuff, but he won't look at any stones that are set. Rayne's idea was
to sell them, just as they were, to a dealer named Steffensen, who
buys stuff here and smuggles it over to New York and San Francisco,
where it is not likely to be traced. But I find that Steffensen is
away in America at the moment, so I've approached the Dutchman.
Heydenryck is a sly old dog. Unlike Steffensen, he buys unset stones
because they are difficult to identify."
I bent and examined the glittering little pile of diamonds, rubies,
emeralds and sapphires which had been stolen from the hotel in London.
"Look here, Hargreave," said Duperre. "I want you to help us to get
rid of this," and he pointed to the broken jewelry.
"How?" I asked dismayed, for I confess that I feared the discovery. To
be thus intimately associated with a band of expert crooks was a new
experience.
"Quite easily," he replied. "I'll show you." Then turning to his wife,
he said: "Just bring Lu Chang in, will you, Hylda?"
Madame passed into the next room and returned with a small Pekinese in
her arms.
"Lu Chang is quite quiet and harmless," laughed Duperre as his wife
handed the dog to me.
As my hands came in contact with the animal's fur I realized that it
was dead--and stuffed!
Duperre laughed heartily as he watched my face. I confess that I was
mystified.
He took the dog, which had probably been purchased from a naturalist
only that day, and ripping open the pelt behind the forelegs he
quickly drew out the stuffing. Then into the cavity he hurriedly
thrust the broken rings and pendants.
I watched him with curiosity. It seemed such an unusual proceeding.
But I recollected that I was dealing with strange associates--people
whom I afterwards found to be perhaps the most ingenious crooks in
Europe.
"Poor Lu Chang," exclaimed my old company commander with a laugh. "If
you drown him he won't feel it!"
Duperre watched the expression of surprise upon my face as he packed
the whole of the broken jewelry into the dog.
"Now what I want you to do, Hargreave," he said, "is to drown Lu Chang
in the Seine. Lots of people in Paris, who are not lovers of dogs, are
flinging them into the river because of the new excessive tax upon
domestic pets. You will just toss Lu Chang over the Pont Neuf. The
police can't interfere, even though they see you. You will only have
put the dog out of the world rather than pay the double tax."
He watched my natural hesitation.
"Isn't he a little dear!" exclaimed Madame, stroking the dog's fur.
"Poor Lu Chang! He won't float with the gold inside him!"
"No," laughed Duperre. "He'll go plumb to the bottom!"
It was on the tip of my tongue to excuse myself, but I remembered that
I was in the service of Rudolph Rayne, the country squire of Overstow,
and paid handsomely. And, after all, it was no great risk to fling the
stuffed dog into the river.
I am a lover of dogs, and had the animal been alive nothing would
have induced me to carry out his suggestion.
But as it had been dead long ago, for I saw some signs of moth in the
fur, and as I was in Paris at the bidding of my employer, I consented,
and carrying the little Peke beneath my arm I walked along the Quai du
Louvre to the old bridge which, in two parts, spans the river. Just
before I gained the Rue Dauphine, on the other side, I paused and
looked down into the water. An agent of police was regulating the
traffic on my left, and he being in controversy with the driver of a
motor-lorry, I took my opportunity and dropped the dog with its secret
into the water.
Two boys had watched me, so I waited a moment, then turning upon my
heel, I retraced my steps back to the Hotel Ombrone, having been
absent about twenty minutes.
As I entered Room 88, three Frenchmen, who had ascended in the lift,
followed me in.
Madame was writing a letter, while Duperre was in the act of lighting
a cigarette. We started in surprise, for next instant we all three
found ourselves under arrest; the well-dressed strangers being
officers of the Surete. One of them was the man in the white spats who
had been attracted by Madame in the Bois.
"Arrest!" gasped Duperre.
As he did so, an undersized, rather shabbily-dressed man of sixty or
so put his head into the door inquisitively, and realizing that
something unpleasant was occurring, quickly withdrew and disappeared.
I saw that he exchanged with Duperre a glance of recognition combined
with apprehension, and concluded that it was the man Heydenryck, the
dealer in stolen gems.
Meanwhile the elder of the three detectives told us that they had
reason to believe that jewelry stolen from a London hotel was in our
possession, and that the place would be searched.
"Messieurs, you are quite at liberty to search," laughed Duperre,
treating the affair as a joke. "Here are my keys!"
At once they began to rummage every hole and corner in the room as
well as the luggage of both Duperre and his wife. The brown suit-case
which was in the wardrobe in the bedroom attracted their attention,
but when unlocked was found to contain only a few modern novels.
At this they drew back in chagrin and disappointment. I knew that the
broken gold was safely at the bottom of the Seine, but where were the
gems?
It was all very well for Duperre to bluff, but they would, I felt
convinced, eventually be found. The police, not content with searching
the personal belongings of my friend, took up the floor-boards, and
even stripped some paper from the wall and carefully examined every
article of furniture. Afterwards they went to my room at the end of
the corridor and thoroughly searched it.
At last the inspector, still mystified, ordered two taxis to be
called, as it was his intention to take us at once before the
examining magistrate.
"Madame had better put on her hat at once," he added, bristling with
authority.
Thus ordered, she reluctantly obeyed and put on her big feathered hat
before the glass. Then a few moments later we were conducted
downstairs and away to the Prefecture of Police.
After all being thoroughly searched, Madame being examined by a prison
wardress, we were ushered into the dull official room of Monsieur
Rodin, the well-known examining magistrate, who for a full hour plied
us with questions. Duperre and his wife preserved an outward dignity
that amazed me. They complained bitterly of being accused without
foundation, while on my part I answered the police official that I had
quite accidentally come across my old superior officer.
Time after time Monsieur Rodin referred to the papers before him,
evidently much puzzled. It seemed that Madame had been recognized in
the Bois by the impressionable Frenchman who I had believed, had been
attracted by her handsome face.
That information had been sent by Scotland Yard to Paris regarding the
stolen jewels was apparent. Yet the fact that the locked suit-case
only contained books and that nothing had been found in our
possession--thanks to the forethought of Duperre--the police now found
themselves in a quandary. The man in the white spats whom we had seen
in the Bois identified Madame as Marie Richaud, a Frenchwoman who had
lived in Philadelphia for several years, and who had been implicated
two years before in the great frauds on the Bordeaux branch of the
Societe Generale.
Madame airily denied any knowledge of it. She had only arrived in
Paris with her husband from Rome a few days before, she declared. And
surely enough the visas upon their passports showed that was so, even
though I had seen her at Overstow!
How I withstood that hour I know not. In the end, however, Monsieur
Rodin ceased his questions and we were put into the cells till the
next morning.
Imagine the sleepless night I spent! I hated myself for falling into
the trap which Rayne, the crafty organizer of the gang, had so
cleverly laid for me. Yet was I not in the hands of the police?
But the main question in my mind was the whereabouts of that little
pile of gems.
Next day we were taken publicly before another magistrate and defended
by a clever lawyer whom Duperre had engaged. It was found that not a
tittle of evidence could be brought against us, and, even though the
magistrate expressed his strong suspicions, we were at last released.
As we walked out into the sunlight of the boulevard, Duperre glanced
at his watch, and exclaimed:
"I wonder if we shall be in time to catch the train? I must telephone
to Heydenryck at once."
Five minutes later he was in a public telephone-box speaking to the
receiver of stolen goods.
Then, without returning to the Hotel Ombrone, we took a taxi direct to
the Gare de Lyon.
As Duperre took three first-class tickets to Fontainebleau, the
undersized, grave-faced old man whom I had seen at the moment of our
arrest followed him, and also took a ticket to the same destination.
We entered an empty compartment where, just before the train moved
off, the old man joined us.
He posed as a perfect stranger, but as soon as the train had left the
platform my companion introduced him to me.
"I called last night and saw what had happened. Surely you have all
three had a narrow escape!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," said Duperre. "It was fortunate that Hylda recognized the
_sous-inspecteur_ Bossant in the Bois. She put me on my guard. I knew
we should be arrested, so I took precautions to get rid of the gold
and conceal the stones."
"But where are they?" I asked eagerly, as the train ran through the
first station out of Paris. "They are still hidden in the hotel, I
suppose. We've all been searched!"
Madame laughed merrily, and removing her hat, unceremoniously tore out
the three great feathers, the large quills of which she held up to the
light before my eyes.
I then saw to my amazement that, though hardly distinguishable, all
three of the hollow quills were filled with gems, the smaller being
put in first.
At the detective's own suggestion she had put on her hat when
arrested, and she had worn it during the time she had been searched,
during the examination by the magistrate, and during her trial!
Duperre was certainly nothing if not ingenious and his _sang-froid_
had saved us all from terms of imprisonment.
Madame replaced the valuable feathers in her hat, and when we arrived
at Fontainebleau we drove at once to the Hotel de France, opposite the
palace, where we took an excellent _dejeuner_ in a private room.
And before we left, Duperre had disposed of Lady Norah's jewels at a
very respectable figure, which the sly old receiver paid over in
thousand-franc notes.
I marveled at my companion's ingenuity, whereupon he laughed airily,
replying:
"When 'The Golden Face' arranges a _coup_ it never fails to come
off--I assure you. The police have to be up very early to get the
better of him. His one injunction to all of us is that we shall be
ready at all times to show clean hands--as we have to-day! But let's
get away, Hargreave--back to London, I think, don't you?"
The whole adventure mystified and bewildered me. It was a mystery
which, however, before long, was to be increased a hundredfold. Alas!
that I should sit here and put down my guilt upon paper!