Field walked away thoughtfully from the office of Mr. Fleming. He was a
little pleased to find that the lawyer took the same view of the mystery
as himself. There was a great deal to be done yet. It was getting very
late indeed before Field made his way once more in the direction of
Wandsworth. He had an important paper in his pocket, and he had given
directions for two of his most trusted men to meet him outside No. 100,
Audley Place, by eleven o'clock.
But those other men had other tasks to perform first, and they might be
some time yet. With this knowledge in his mind, Field repaired to the
garden in front of the house and there decided to wait for developments.
It was not a cold night, the bushes in the garden were thick, and Field
felt that he would be just as well there as anywhere else. His patience
was not unduly tried. He chuckled slightly to himself as he saw Beatrice
arrive. He had a pretty shrewd idea what she was here for.
"The old fox is not quite certain of his goal," he told himself. "He
thinks he has got everything in his grip--that the forged deed will do
the mischief, but perhaps there are other papers. That is why he has
sent for Mrs. Richford. We shall see."
If Sartoris had known what reposed in Field's breast pocket he would not
have been quite so easy in his mind. But he did not know it, and Field
did not know what was transpiring inside the house. He waited a little
longer till Mary Sartoris came up. She seemed to be greatly agitated
about something; she stood in the garden hesitating. A little later, and
she was joined by Mark Ventmore. Field was glad to see so valuable an
ally here.
From his hiding-place Field could hear all that passed. It was a
satisfaction to be able to gather up such a deal of information.
Richford would have to come into the net presently, and Richford was in
England, which was more than Field had expected. Of course, with
everybody else, he had heard of the famous diamonds that Richford had
given to his wife, and supposed that before now the diamonds had been
turned into money. Into funds, Richford would have had a good chance of
getting away; as it was, he must still be in London.
"So that fellow is still here," Field chuckled. "Did she say Edward
Street? The very house that I have my eye on. We will bag all the birds.
Hullo, here come some more!"
Mark and Mary Sartoris drew back as the man and woman respectively
called Reggie and Cora came up. They had their listeners, but they did
not know it. Perhaps, if they had, they would not have made their plans
quite so openly. As it was, they had laid bare the whole of their new
scheme to the quickest ears in London. Field slipped from his
hiding-place as Reggie and Cora closed the front door behind them. Mary
gave a little scream.
"There is no occasion for alarm--at least, as far as you are concerned,
Miss Sartoris," Field said. "I have heard everything that those people
said."
"This is Inspector Field of Scotland Yard," Mark said.
Mary's lips quivered, but she said nothing. Her own instincts told her
what Field was doing here. She had always felt that the bubble must
burst some day--she had always known that her noble efforts were
altogether in vain. And yet she would have gone on sacrificing herself
to save Carl Sartoris from the fate that was inevitable.
"Are you down here on any special business?" Mark asked.
"On business connected with the disappearance of Sir Charles Darryll and
other matters," Field said. "The one thing contains the other. But you
need not have the smallest apprehension for the safety of Mrs. Richford
and her diamonds. She is not going to lose them."
"How did you know that she had those diamonds in her pocket?" Mary
asked.
"You forget that I have been hiding here," Field explained. "Like
yourself, I heard every word that passed just now. Every moment I expect
to have two of my most trusted men here. Directly those two emerge from
the house and get into the road, they will be arrested. In my business I
often find that when you are looking for one bird you frequently find
another. Mr. Reggie and Miss Cora are old friends of mine and the Paris
police. They are very clever at disguises; they work together, she as a
countess, and he as a general officer. Both of them were on the stage
and both would have made very good names, but the honest _role_ was too
dull for them. You may rest assured that those two will be out of the
way before daylight."
Mary listened with mixed feelings. She felt that in a measure she was
mainly responsible for what was going to happen. It looked as though it
would be an eventful evening.
"Well, we can't stand here all night," Mark said impatiently. He was
vaguely frightened for Beatrice, in the house with those rascals. "I can
help you. You and I together would be a match for the lot of them. What
do you say to try?"
But Field had no feeling that way at all. The cool, shrewd officer did
not rush things in that fashion. He had his birds secured and he could
afford to wait.
"I cannot possibly permit you to interfere with my plans, sir," he said
coldly. "You must recollect that I am responsible to the authorities,
and that I have my reputation to think of. In my pocket I have a warrant
for the arrest of certain people, and that being the case----"
"For my brother! for Carl Sartoris?" Mary gasped. "Oh, is that really
so?"
"It would be no kindness to conceal the fact," Field said in a gentle
tone. "No, I cannot permit you to enter the house. The thing is
absolutely inevitable, and you could not possibly prevent it. A cripple
like your brother could not escape me, and any hasty action of yours
might mean the escape of the other two. I am exceedingly sorry, Miss
Grey."
Mary started as she heard her own name from the lips of the inspector.
The expression told her that he knew everything. The blow had fallen at
last, as Mary always knew that it would fall, but it was none the less
bitter for that. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she said nothing
further. Mark looked at her with distress in his eyes; he and Field
exchanged glances.
"This must be very painful to you, miss," the latter went on. "By
staying here you can do us no good--you are only giving yourself
unnecessary pain. Is there any house you can go to, any place where you
can stay for the night? A hotel?"
"I have no friends and no money," Mary said through her tears. "Since
coming to England I have given myself wholly to my brother. I have done
my best to make the path smooth for him and I have failed. It was no
fault of mine that Sir Charles----"
"That Sir Charles was not warned," Field said hastily. "Don't say any
more, please. Don't place yourself in such a position that I shall have
to call you as a witness."
Mary swallowed down her choking sobs. Two figures stole across the
street, and Field gave a low whistle. His two trusty subordinates had
come at last. As they passed by the gate Field strode across to them and
gave them their instructions. Mark turned to Mary.
"Pray let me be your banker," he said. "Let me provide the money so that
you----"
"But I cannot," Mary protested. "I dare not. You would never see the
money again, and like all good and generous people, you are as poor as I
am myself."
"That remark may have applied to my affairs yesterday, but it certainly
does not to-day," Mark said eagerly. "I told you that I have been to see
my father who has been very ill lately. As he lay in bed, with no
friends to come and see him--for he has been a hard and selfish man--he
grew to see things in a different light. He sent for me. He was rather
impressed by the tale that I had managed to do without his assistance
and that I was making a name for myself. I told him everything, and we
are quite good friends again. He insisted upon making me an allowance of
L1,500, and as the thought of it did him good, I did not protest. After
that, will you let me help you? I know how good you are, and how you
have suffered."
"I am more than grateful," Mary said in a choked voice. "It is kind of
you, but I cannot take any advantage of your offer; I must stay till the
end."
"And go through all the misery of it," Mark protested. "You know that
all those people will sleep in jail to-night. Why should you witness the
arrest? Let me take you to some quiet hotel and arrange for your
accommodation there."
But Mary shook her head resolutely. She was not going to leave till she
was forced to. Mark ceased his pleadings as Field came back to them.
"If you would only let me go into the house," Mary said. "I have my own
key, and I shall not make the slightest noise. They do not require me!
if I put my head inside the study I should at once be ordered out again.
Let me go to my own room."
Field hesitated for a moment. It was not the first time he had met a
good woman whose life was bound up with that of a criminal, and he had
experience of what those women could do in the hour of peril. And yet he
hesitated because Mary's prayer was passionate and sincere. But it was
only for a moment, then he became a police officer again.
"I could not allow it," he said. "If it came to the ears of my
superiors, I should suffer. And I have a wife and family to think of.
In minutes of temptation such as you ask me to put before you, women are
capable of anything for the sake of those they love. Besides, you would
not have me do a thing that is wrong in the eyes of my employers?"
Mary was silent. Her own sense of justice showed her that Field was
right. But nothing would induce her to go away, so long as there was
anything like hope remaining. She might get a chance still to whisper
one word of warning. And if it came she would not hesitate. She had not
been placed on her parole so far.
She turned away to wipe her shining eyes, and as she did so the door
opened and Berrington crept out. His face was full of excitement, his
lips were white.
"Glad to find you here," he said. "I was going to try and find a
messenger. I could not leave the house for very long, considering
that----"
He paused significantly, with his eyes on Mary. Evidently Berrington had
made some great and startling discovery, or he would not have been so
dreadfully agitated. Even in the moment of her awful sorrow, Mary could
find time to speak and think of others.
"I am in a great measure responsible for this," she said. "Philip,
Beatrice Richford is in the house; she has a valuable parcel of diamonds
in her pocket; those thieves there know it. Go to her assistance at
once; see that she is safe from harm. If anything happens to her I shall
never forgive myself. Why don't you go at once?"
"I am sorry," Berrington stammered. He seemed quite dazed and confused.
"I have no doubt that Mrs. Richford will be perfectly safe, seeing that
assistance is at hand. Indeed, I let her know that I was in the house
so that she should not be unduly frightened. But there are other matters
of far greater importance than that. Sir Charles Darryll----"
"I thought we should come to Sir Charles Darryll," Field cut in swiftly.
"But we need not discuss that matter here and now. Do you want me?"
Field asked the question with a strange ring in his voice. Berrington
wondered--he was rapidly regaining complete possession of himself. He
moved towards the house.
"In a few minutes," he said. "Wait till I give you the signal. Thank
goodness, you were so close by."
Berrington passed into the house again and closed the door behind him.