The venerable-looking old cleric sat there for the better part of an
hour in the patient attitude of one who waits for a friend, but though
he puzzled his cunning brain he could see no way out of the difficulty.
He had no money, and the police were after him. He recognised only too
well that he had to thank Sartoris for this--he had measured his cunning
against that of the little cripple, and he had failed. He had played for
the greater part of the stake that was at the bottom of the mystery, and
he had paid the penalty. Bitterly he regretted his folly now.
Presently, his humming brain began to clear. He saw one or two people
there whom he knew; he saw Beatrice come down to the office and go out
presently, with a little flat case under her arm. Richford's eyes
gleamed, and a glow of inspiration thrilled him.
"As sure as fate she has the diamonds," he told himself. "She is afraid
that I should hit upon some scheme for getting them, and she is going to
dispose of them in some hiding-place. I'll follow her. Courage, my
boy--the game is not up yet."
As a matter of fact, Richford had summed up the situation correctly. In
some vague way Beatrice was a little alarmed. She had heard of such
things as injunctions and the like. Suppose the law stepped in to
protect the rogue, as the law does sometimes. And Beatrice had something
else to do, for she had read Berrington's letter, and she had made up
her mind to go to Wandsworth without delay. But first of all she would
walk as far as the old family jewellers in Bond Street and deposit the
stones there. She had every faith in the head of the firm, whom the
family had dealt with for so many years.
No sooner had Beatrice stepped out of the hotel than Mary Sartoris came
back. She proceeded quietly up the stairs to find Adeline alone in the
room of her mistress. The girl blushed as Mary put the question that
rose naturally to her lips.
"I'm very sorry, miss," the girl stammered; "but I forgot all about your
message and the letter. I left the letter on the table, and my mistress
has just gone out."
"Did she get the letter before she went?" Mary asked quickly.
"Well, yes, I suppose so, miss," was the reply, "seeing that the letter
is no longer on the table. I suppose that my mistress has got it. She
must have done so, for the envelope is in the grate."
Sure enough, the envelope with the forged handwriting of Berrington upon
it lay in the grate. Mary was too mortified to speak for the moment,
besides there was no occasion to tell the maid anything.
"I'm sorry you were so careless," she said. "Did your mistress go out
alone?"
"I believe so," the contrite Adeline said. "She had a visitor, an old
clergyman who----"
But Mary was not listening, she was only thinking of Beatrice's danger.
At the same time she had a clear recollection of the old clergyman, for
he had pushed past her into the hotel at the moment when she was
leaving the building for the first time.
She went out into the street which was dark by this time. She would take
a cab to Wandsworth at once and get there before Beatrice came. But
there was no cab in sight, so that Mary had to walk some little way. At
the corner of the road she stopped and hesitated for a moment. Close by
stood the well-dressed couple who had imposed themselves upon Beatrice
under the guise of Countess de la Moray and General Gastang.
Whatever were they doing here, just now, Mary wondered? Just for the
moment it flashed across her mind that they were prying upon her
movements. But another idea occurred to her, as the two were accosted by
the old clergyman that Mary had seen before, and who had been a visitor
to Beatrice Richford such a little time previously.
She saw the man raise his hat politely at some question from the
clergyman, then she saw his face change to a startled expression, and
instantly Mary understood.
"I know who it is," she said half aloud. "It is Stephen Richford in
disguise. He has been to see his wife. I should like to know what they
are talking about."
The trio were talking very earnestly indeed now. Just for the moment it
had looked as if the man called Reggie and the woman called Cora had
decided to give Richford the cold shoulder. But he had said a few words,
and the scene was suddenly changed. The three walked off together and
turned into a small restaurant a little way down the street.
Moved by a feeling which she would have had some trouble to explain,
Mary followed. In some vague way she felt that Beatrice was in danger.
The restaurant was by no means a fashionable one, and few people were
there. Mary noticed, too, that the inside was divided into compartments
in the old-fashioned way. She stepped into the box next the one where
the three conspirators were seated and ordered a cup of tea. It was a
satisfaction to the girl to know that she could hear all that was being
said in the other box. She heard the popping of a champagne cork,
speedily followed by another. She had only to sit there and listen. She
had forgotten all about Beatrice by this time.
"Wine like that puts life into a man," she heard Richford say.
"And gives him a tongue too," the man called Reggie laughed. "Deadly
expensive stuff unless you can see some reasonable return for your
outlay in the near future. Come, Richford, we are both eager to know how
you propose to put money into our pockets."
"And yet I can put a lot," Richford said. "Oh, you need not be afraid of
that crooked little devil at Wandsworth, for he shall not know anything
about it. What do you say to L10,000 apiece and nobody any the wiser?
Doesn't that make your mouth water?"
"It would if you could show me the way," Reggie said. "But in the most
delicate way possible, my dear Richford, let me put it to you--that you
are under a cloud at present. And why do you offer to divide the plunder
in this very irrational way?"
"Simply because I _am_ under a cloud," Richford growled. "I'm powerless
and desperate. I don't even know where to turn for a night's lodging.
Now look here, the matter may take a day or two, and in the meantime
I've got to put up somewhere. And as a warrant of my good faith, I'm not
going to ask you for any money. All I require is food and a bed and
shelter, and that you may very well give me at Edward Street. Sartoris
never goes there."
"Make it worth while and the thing's done," Reggie said. "Give it a
name."
"Well, suppose we call it diamonds?" Richford suggested. "Have you
forgotten those magnificent diamonds that I gave my wife, bless her, for
a wedding present?"
A little gasp came from the listeners. It was evident to Richford that
he had struck the right chord, for he proceeded with more confidence.
"I gave my dear wife stones worth nearly, if not quite, L40,000," he
said. "I didn't hand over that little lot altogether out of
disinterested affection. A man who takes risks, as I do, is pretty sure
to come up against a financial crisis sooner or later, only it has been
sooner in this case. Though my wife chose to ignore me, I left the
stones in her possession because, being my wife, no creditor could lay
hands upon those gems. I went to her to-day and asked for them. Of
course I did not anticipate any difficulty whatever; I expected that she
would cock that imperially haughty nose of hers in the air and hand them
over to me as if I were dirt beneath her feet. To my astonishment she
utterly refused to do anything of the kind."
"Unkind," the woman Cora laughed; "and yet so like a modern wife. Had
she pawned them?"
"Not she! I was fool enough to say something that was not quite
complimentary of my creditors, and she refused to part with the stones
anyhow. Said that they would go to pay my debts. I threatened violence
and all kinds of things, but it was no good. I said that unless I had
money in forty-eight hours I should be in jail, but it was all to no
effect. Did you ever hear anything so maddening in all your life?"
"You have my deepest sympathy," Reggie said; "but you did not bring us
here to listen to a story that has no point to it like yours. You have
got some scheme in your head for getting hold of the stones. But you
can't do it alone."
"If I could should I be such a cursed fool as to bring you two in?"
Richford growled. "But I--but I can't appear. All I can do is to show
you the way and trust to your honour to give me a third of the plunder
when it is turned into cash."
"Hadn't you better get to the point?" Reggie suggested with undisguised
eagerness.
"I'm coming to that. After my interview with my wife I sat in the hall
trying to pull myself together. Presently I saw her ladyship come down
and go to the office. Those diamonds had been deposited in the hotel
safe for obvious reasons. My wife came out of the office presently with
the case in her hand. Then I recognized what had happened. She was
afraid of some move of mine, and she was going to deposit the stones
elsewhere. It did not take me long to make up my mind where she was
going. She was about to take the plunder to Hilton in Bond Street."
"How long ago?" the woman called Cora asked eagerly. "This is
important."
"Well, not more than an hour, anyway," Richford replied. "Why do you
ask?"
"Because Hilton closes at five," the woman said. "I know that, because
the firm has done several little jobs for me lately. You may be pretty
sure that your wife did not deposit those stones at Hilton's to-day;
therefore she still has them in her pocket. That being so, what we have
to do now is to discover where she has gone. If you like I'll go round
to the _Royal Palace Hotel_ at once and see if she has returned. I'll
ask the clerk in the office, and if he says she has returned, you may
safely bet that those stones are back in the hotel safe again. If she
has not returned, they are still on her person."
"It's just as well to make sure," Reggie said reflectively.
The woman flitted away and came back soon with a smile on her face.
"So far, so good," she said. "The lady has not returned to the hotel.
Now, Mr. Richford, if you can only put us on the track of the timid
little hare, then----"
"Done with the greatest possible ease," Richford replied. "She's gone to
Wandsworth. I can't make the thing out at all, and in any case it does
not in the least matter. When I was waiting for my wife just now I saw a
letter to her from Berrington,--Colonel Berrington. As you know, he is a
prisoner in Audley Place, and why he should have written that letter, or
how Sartoris persuaded the warrior to write it, I don't know any more
than Adam. But that's where she has gone. If you can intercept her
before she gets there, or waylay her when she leaves, why there you are.
I don't suppose my wife will tell Sartoris that she has all that stuff
in her pocket."
"Do you think that she took a cab?" Reggie asked.
"I should say not. Cabs cost money, and Beatrice has not much of that.
Wandsworth is not a place you can get to in ten minutes, especially
after the business trains have ceased running for the evening; so that
if you took a cab----"
Reggie jumped to his feet excitedly.
"No use wasting time here," he said. "Come along, Cora. I'll just
scribble a few lines on one of my cards, so that you can be safe at
Edward Street. There you are. And if I don't get those stones before
bedtime, why I'm a bigger fool than the police take me for."
Thrilling with excitement, Mary followed the others into the street. She
saw the two get into a cab, and she proceeded to take one herself. The
cabman looked at her dubiously as he asked where he was to go to.
"No. 100, Audley Place, Wandsworth Common," Mary said. "If you get there
ten minutes before the cab in front, I'll give you an extra
half-sovereign."