THE CAT'S TOOTH
That night I went to my room at about ten minutes before midnight, and
waited for the appearance of my secret visitor.
Just as midnight struck the handle of the door slowly turned and a
well-dressed, dark-mustached man of about thirty-five entered silently
and bowed.
"Mr. Hargreave?" he asked with a foreign accent. "Or is it
Cottingham?"
"Which you please," I replied in a low voice, laughing.
"I have this to hand to you," he said as he produced the portion of
the visiting-card which I found fitted exactly to that which I had
received from Rayne.
"Well?" I asked, inviting him to a chair and afterwards turning the
key in the door. "What message have you for me?" Then I noticed for
the first time that he bore in his hand a small brown leather
attache-case.
"I know you well by name, Mr. Hargreave," he said. "You are one of us,
I know. Therefore 'The Golden Face' sends you a message."
"Have you seen him?" I asked.
"No," was his reply. "Though we have been in association for several
years, I always receive messages through Vincent Duperre."
I knew that only too well. Rudolph Rayne took the most elaborate
precautions to preserve a clean pair of hands himself, no matter what
dirty work he planned to be carried out by others.
"Duperre saw me in London yesterday, gave me that piece of card, and
told me to come here and explain matters," the Italian went on in a
low voice. "You see this case. I am to hand it to you," and as he took
it, he touched the bottom, which I saw was hinged and fell inwards in
two pieces, both of which sprang back again into their places by means
of strong springs. My small collar-box stood upon the dressing-table.
"You see how it works," he said, and placing the attache-case over the
collar-box, he snatched it up and the collar-box had disappeared
inside! It was an old invention of thieves and possessed no
originality. I wondered that Rayne's friends employed such a
contrivance, which, of course, was useful when it became necessary
that valuable objects should disappear.
"Well, and what of it?" I asked, as, opening the case, he took out my
collar-box and replaced it upon the table.
"I am told that you are on very friendly terms with Lady Lydbrook. Our
friend old Hesketh has been here and watched your progress--a
grey-mustached man with a slight limp. I dare say you may have noticed
him."
I recollected the silent watcher who I had feared might be a
detective, and who had recently left the hotel. So Rayne had set
secret watch upon my movements--a fact which irritated me.
"Yes. I know Sir Owen's wife," I said. "Why?"
"Possibly you don't know that she has in a small dark-green morocco
case a rope of pearls worth twenty thousand, as well as some other
magnificent jewels. Haven't you seen her wearing her pearls?"
"I have," I said, "but I put them down as artificial ones."
"No--every one of them is real! They were a present to her from her
husband on her marriage," said the foreigner, his dark eyes glowing as
he spoke. "We want them," he whispered eagerly. "And as you know her,
you'll have to get them."
"I shall do no such thing!" I protested quickly. "I may be employed by
Mr. Rayne, but I'm not paid to commit a theft."
My visitor looked me very straight in the face with his searching
eyes, and after a moment's pause, asked:
"Is that really your decision? Am I to report that to Duperre--that
you refuse?"
"If you want to steal the woman's pearls why don't you do it
yourself?" I suggested.
"Because I am not her friend. You have called at her room for her,
Hesketh has reported. You would not be suspected, being her friend,"
he added with sly persuasiveness.
"No. Tell them I refuse!" I cried, furious that such a proposition
should be put to me.
The foreigner, in whom I now recognized a polished international
crook, shrugged his shoulders and elevated his eyebrows. Then he
asked:
"Will you not reconsider your decision, Signor Hargreave? I fear this
refusal will mean a great deal to you. When 'The Golden Face' becomes
hostile he always manages to put those who disobey him into the hands
of the police. And I have knowledge that he intends you to act in this
case as he directs, or--well, I fear that some unpleasantness will
arise for you!"
"What do you threaten?" I demanded angrily. "I don't know who you
are--and I don't care! One fact is plain, that you, like myself, are
an agent of the man of abnormal brain known as 'The Golden Face,' but
I tell you I refuse to become a jewel-thief."
"Very well, if that is your irrevocable decision I will return
to-morrow and report," he answered in very good English, though he was
typically Italian. "But I warn you that mischief is meant if you do
not obey. Duperre told me so. Like myself you are paid to act as
directed and to keep a silent tongue. Only six months ago Jean Durand,
in Paris, refused to obey a demand, and to-day he is in the convict
prison in Toulon serving a sentence of seven years. He attempted to
reveal facts concerning 'The Golden Face,' but the judge at the Seine
Assizes ridiculed the idea of our head director living respected and
unsuspected in England. You may believe yourself safe and able to
adopt a defiant attitude, but I, for one, can tell you that such a
policy can only bring upon you dire misfortune. Once one becomes a
servant of 'The Golden Face' one remains so always, extremely well
paid and highly prosperous providing one is alert and shrewd, but
ruined and imprisoned if one either makes a slip or grows defiant. I
hope you will understand me, signor. I have been given a master-key to
the hotel. It will open Lady Lydbrook's door. Here it is."
"But I really cannot accede to this!" I declared. "Though I have
fallen into a clever trap and have assisted in certain schemes, yet I
have never acted as the actual thief."
"'The Golden Face,' whose marvelous activity and influence we must
all admire, has decided that you must do so in this case," he said
inexorably.
I craved time to consider the matter, and after some further
conversation told him I would meet him near the bandstand on the
sea-front at noon next day, for we did not want to be associated in
the hotel.
That night I slept but little, for I realized that if I refused I must
assuredly be cast into the melting-pot as one who might, in return,
give Rayne away. I thought of Lola with whom I was so madly in love,
and whom I intended to eventually rescue from the criminal atmosphere
in which, though innocent, she was compelled to live.
I hated to take such a downward step, though the innocent-looking
little attache-case with the steel grips and spring bottom was there
by my bedside ready for use. I was torn between the path of honesty
from which, alas! I had been slowly slipping ever since I had made
that accursed compact with Rudolph Rayne, and my love for Lola, who
had, I knew, every confidence in me, while at the same time she was
growing highly suspicious of her father.
The reader will readily realize my feelings that night. I had taken a
false step, and to withdraw would mean arrest, conviction and
imprisonment, notwithstanding any disclosures I might make. Rudolph
Rayne remained always with clean hands, the rich country gentleman and
personal friend of certain Justices of the Peace, officials, and
others, with whom he played golf and invited to his shooting parties
on the Yorkshire moors which he rented with money stolen in divers
ways and in various cities.
So, to cut a long story short, I met the mysterious Italian crook next
day--and I fell, for I took the master-key and agreed to attempt the
theft of Lady Lydbrook's pearls!
I now saw through Rayne's devilish plot. I was to be used still
further as his cat's-paw, and he had planned that because of my
friendship with the pretty young woman, at his orders I was to steal
her property.
I felt myself alone and in a cleft stick. That afternoon, as I sat at
tea in the lounge with the woman whose jewels I was ordered to steal,
I was torn by a thousand emotions, yet I pretended to be my usual
self, and at my invitation she went out for a motor run between tea
and dinner.
Though I laughed at my foolishness, I somehow suspected that she now
viewed me with distinct misgiving. It now became necessary for me to
prospect for the little morocco case in which I knew she kept her
pearls. Therefore I at last summoned courage, and one evening, just
before half-past seven, while she was dressing for dinner, I knocked
and made excuse to ask her if she would go to the theater with me.
"Do come in," she cried, for she was already dressed in a bright
sapphire-colored gown which greatly heightened her beauty. As she
admitted me, I saw the little jewel-case standing upon a tiny
side-table near the window. She was not wearing her beautiful rope of
pearls, therefore they were, without a doubt, safe in the case.
She thanked me and accepted, so I quickly went downstairs and told the
hall porter to telephone for two stalls.
That night, on arrival back at the hotel, it occurred to me that if
the little jewel-case had been left where it was my chance had now
arrived. I was being forced against my will to become a thief. Rayne,
the man who held me in his grip, had driven me to it and had placed
the means at my disposal. To refuse would mean arrest and the loss of
Lola.
We sat down in the lounge and I called for drinks--she was thirsty and
would like a lemon squash, she said. Before the waiter brought them, I
made leisurely excuse to go to the bureau to see if there were any
letters. Instead, I rushed up to my own room, obtained the "trick"
attache-case, and carrying it along to Lady Lydbrook's room,
stealthily opened the door with the master-key which Ansaldi had given
me.
All was dark within. I switched on the light, when, before me, upon
the little table, I saw the small green jewel-box.
In an instant I placed the attache-case over it and next second it had
disappeared.
But as I did so, I heard a movement behind me, and, on turning, to my
breathless horror saw, standing before me, the pretty, fair-haired
young woman whom I had robbed!
"Well, Mr. Cottingham--or whatever your name is," she exclaimed in a
hard, altered voice as, closing the door behind her, she advanced to
me with a fierce light in her eyes. "And what are you doing here,
pray?"
Then, glancing at the table and noticing her jewel-case missing, she
added:
"I see! You have scraped acquaintance with me in order to steal my
jewels. You have them in that case in your hand!"
I stammered something. What it was I have no recollection. I only know
that my words infuriated her, and she dashed out into the corridor to
raise the alarm, leaving me in possession of the trick bag with the
jewel-case inside.
I dashed after her, seizing her roughly by the waist as she ran down
the corridor.
"Listen!" I whispered fiercely into her ear. "Listen one moment. You
surely won't give me away? Listen to what I have to tell you.
Do--I--implore you," I said. "I am no thief! I will tell you
everything--and ask your advice. No harm has been done. Your pearls
are here."
"Yes," she said, turning back upon me. "But you--the man I liked and
trusted--are a common thief!"
"I admit it," I said hoarsely as I dragged her back to her room, her
dress being torn in the struggle. "I have been forced against my will
into robbing you, as I will explain."
Back in her bedroom she assumed a very serious attitude. She invited
me to sit down, after I had handed back her jewel-case, and then, also
seating herself in an arm-chair, she said in determination:
"Now look here, George Hargreave ... you see, I know your real name. I
know your game. By a word I can have you arrested, while, on the other
hand, my silence would give you your liberty."
"You will remain silent, Lady Lydbrook--I beg of you! I know that I
have committed an unpardonable crime for which there is no excuse." I
thought of that strange midnight scene I had witnessed and it was on
the tip of my tongue to mention it. But would it further infuriate
her? So I refrained from alluding to it.
Her attitude towards me had completely altered. She was hard-mouthed
and indignant, which, after all, was but natural.
"My whole future is in your hands," I added.
She still hesitated. A word from her and not only would I be arrested,
but Rayne would probably be exposed and arrested also. She seemed, I
feared, to be aware of the whole organization, hence she was one of
the last persons who should have been marked down as a victim. Rayne
had evidently committed a fatal error.
"Well," she said at last, "I am open to remain silent, and the matter
shall never be mentioned between us--but on one condition."
"And what is that?" I asked anxiously.
"I am in want of someone to help me. Will you do so?"
"I will do anything to serve you if you give me my liberty," I said,
much ashamed.
"Very well, then. Listen," she said in a hard, strained voice. "If you
resolve, in return for my silence, to assist me, you will be compelled
to act at my orders without seeking for any motive, but in blind
obedience."
"I quite understand," I replied. "I agree."
No doubt she desired me to act against her enemy--the young fellow who
had extracted fifty pounds from her by threat.
"You must say nothing to a soul but meet me in secret in Paris. Stay
at the Hotel Continental where I shall stay on the night of the
twenty-fourth. That is next Wednesday. At ten o'clock I shall be on
the terrace of the Cafe Vachette in the Boulevard St. Michel. Remember
the day and hour, and meet me there. Then I will tell you what service
I require of you. I shall leave here to-morrow, and I suppose you will
leave also." And she opened her jewel-case to reassure herself that
her pearls and other ornaments were safe.
So she forgave me, shook my hand, and I went out of the room with the
cold perspiration still upon me.
I made no report of my failure to Rayne, but on the following
Wednesday night, after taking a room at the Continental, in Paris, an
hotel which I knew well, I crossed the Seine at about half-past nine,
and at ten o'clock sauntered up the boulevard to the popular, and
rather Bohemian, Cafe Vachette, where at a little table in the corner,
set well back from the pavement, I found her seated alone. She was
wearing the same dark cloth coat in which I had seen her when she met
the mysterious stranger at night at Eastbourne.
"Well? So you've kept the appointment, Mr. Cottingham!" she laughed
cheerily as I sank into a chair beside her. "You'll order a drink and
pay for mine, eh?" she laughed.
Then when I had swallowed my liqueur, she suggested that we should
stroll down the boulevard and talk.
This we did. The proposition which she made without much preliminary
held me aghast.
"Though I like you very much, Mr. Cottingham," she said as we
conversed in low voices, "I cannot conceal from myself that you are a
thief. Well, now to be perfectly frank, I want a thief's help--and I
know that, as we are friends, you will assist me. You know my
inordinate love of jewels. Indeed, I wouldn't have married Owen if he
had not given me my pearls. And you know the other ornaments I
have--which I might very well never have seen again, eh?"
"I know," I said.
"Well, now, at the Continental there is at the present moment staying
a Madame Rodanet, the widow of the millionaire chocolate manufacturer.
She possesses among her jewels the famous Dent du Chat--the Cat's
Tooth Ruby. It is called so because it is a perfect stone and
curiously pointed, the only one of its kind in the world. I want it,
and you must get it for me--as the price of my silence regarding the
affair at Eastbourne."
I held my breath.
Her suggestion appalled me. I was to commit a second theft as the
price of the first! The pretty wife of the great Sheffield ironmaster
was a thief herself at heart! Truly, the situation was a strange and
bewildering one.
I protested, and pointed out the risk and difficulties, but she met
all my arguments with remarkable cleverness.
"I know Madame," she said. "I will make your path smooth for you, and
I myself will spirit the jewel out of France so that no possible
suspicion can attach to you," was her reply. "Will you leave it all to
me?"
We walked on down the well-lit boulevard, my brain a-whirl, until at
last, pressed hard by her, I consented to act as she directed.
I found, in the course of the next three days, that Lady Lydbrook's
whole life was centered upon the possession of jewels of great value,
and I was amazed to discover how very cleverly she plotted the coup
which I was to carry out.
One evening, after dinner, she introduced me casually to the rich
widow, an ugly overdressed old woman who was wearing as a pendant the
famous Dent du Chat. It was, to say the least, a wonderful gem. But I
passed as a person of no importance.
Next night with Lady Lydbrook's help I was, however, able to get into
the old woman's bedroom and carry out my contract for the preservation
of silence concerning the affair at Eastbourne.
I shall always recollect the moment when I slipped the pendant into
Lady Lydbrook's soft hand as she stood in _deshabille_ at the
half-opened door of her bedroom and her quick whispered words:
"I shall be away by the first train. Stay here to-morrow and cross to
London the next day. _Au revoir!_ Let us meet again soon!" And she
gripped my hand warmly in hers and closed her door noiselessly.
Ah! A week later I learned how, by Rayne's devilish cunning, I had
been tricked. When I knew the truth, I bit my lips to the blood.
The widow Rodanet had, it appeared, been staying at the Palais, in
Biarritz, when Duperre and I had been there. She had been marked down
by Rayne as a victim, for the Dent du Chat was a stone of enormous
value.
The planned robbery had, however, gone wrong and we had been compelled
to return to London. Then Rayne had conceived the sinister idea of
sending me to Lady Lydbrook--who was not Sir Owen's wife at all but
one of his agents like myself, and whose real name was Betty
Tressider--a girl-thief whose chief possession was a rope of imitation
pearls.
I, alas! dropped into the trap, whereupon she, on her part, compelled
me to steal old Madame Rodanet's wonderful ruby; and thus, though I
confess it to my shame, I became an actual thief and one of Rudolph
Rayne's active agents. What happened to me further I will now tell
you.