A SCAMP'S HISTORY
When Jennings came to himself he was lying on a sofa in the dining-room
on the ground-floor of the villa. His shoulder hurt him a trifle, but
otherwise he felt well, though slightly weak. The doctor was at his
side. It was the same man who had attended to the body of the late
occupant of the house.
"Are you feeling better?" said Doctor Slane, when he saw the eyes of
the detective open. "You had better remain here for a time. Your men
have secured the rascals--all five of them."
"And Twining?" asked Jennings, trying to sit up.
"He is dead--shot through the heart. Clancy killed him."
"Then he'll swing for it," said Jennings in a stronger tone, "we lose a
good man in poor Twining. And Hale?"
"You have wounded him severely in the lungs. I fear he will die. We
have put him in Mrs. Barnes' room on her bed. The poor woman is wild
with grief and terror. I suppose you know her husband was amongst
those rascals."
"I thought as much. His going out was merely a blind. But I must get
up and look at the factory. Send Atkins to me."
Atkins was the man next in command now that the inspector was dead.
The doctor tried to keep Jennings on his back, but the detective would
not listen. "There is much to do," he said, rising unsteadily. "You
have bound up my shoulder. I won't lose any more blood."
"You have lost a good deal already."
"It's my business. We detectives have our battles to fight as well as
soldiers have theirs. Give me some brandy and send Atkins."
Seeing that the man was resolved, Slane gave him the drink and went
out. In a few minutes Atkins entered and saluted. Jennings, after
drinking the fiery spirit, felt much better, and was fairly steady on
his legs. "Did you see any women amongst the men we took?" he asked.
"No, sir," replied the other, "there were five men. Two are
wounded--one slightly, and the other--Hale--severely. He wants to make
a confession to you, and I have sent to the office for a clerk to take
down his words. Dr. Slane says he will not live till morning."
"He will cheat the law, I suppose," said Jennings, "give me your arm,
Atkins. I want to visit the factory."
"Are you strong enough, sir?"
"Quite strong enough. Don't bother," replied the other as a twinge of
pain made him wince. "We've made a good haul this time."
"You'll say that, sir, when you see the factory. It is the most
complete thing of its kind."
"Tell the clerk when he arrives not to take down Hale's confession till
I arrive. I won't be more than a quarter of an hour. Give me your arm
when you return."
Atkins departed on his errand, and Jennings sat down, wondering what
had become of Maraquito. He made sure she would go to the factory, as
being a place of refuge which the police would find hard to discover.
But, apparently, she had taken earth in some other crib belonging to
the gang. However, he would have all the ports watched, and she would
find it hard to escape abroad. Maraquito was so striking a woman that
it was no easy matter for her to disguise herself. And Jennings swore
that he would capture her, for he truly believed that she had killed
Miss Loach, and was the prime mover in the whole business. Hitherto
she had baffled him by her dexterity, but when they next met he hoped
to get the upper hand.
His underling returned and, resting on his arm, Jennings with some
difficulty managed to get down the stairs. The whole house now blazed
with light. Formerly the detective had wondered why Miss Loach had
been so fond of electric lamps, thinking that as an old lady she would
have preferred a softer glow. But now he knew that she required the
electricity for the illumination of the factory, and for manipulating
the metals required in the manufacture of coins. There was no doubt
that she was one of the gang also, but Jennings could not conceive why
she should take to such a business. However, the woman was dead and
the gang captured, so the detective moved along the narrow passage with
a sense of triumph. He never thought that he would be so lucky as to
make this discovery, and he knew well that such a triumph meant praise
and reward. "I'll be able to marry Peggy now," he thought.
The coiners had been removed to the Rexton cells, and only Hale
remained under the charge of Mrs. Barnes and Dr. Slane. The body of
Twining lay in the dining-room of the villa. A policeman was on guard
at the door of the villa, and two remained at the forked passage. When
Jennings arrived here he felt inclined to turn off to the right and
explore the other passage, but he was also anxious to see the factory
and assure himself of the value of his discovery. He therefore
painfully hobbled along, clinging to Atkins, but sustained in his
efforts by an indomitable spirit.
"Here you are, sir," said Atkins, turning on the light and revealing
the workshop. "A fine plant, isn't it?"
"It is, indeed," said Jennings, glancing up to the rough roof where
five or six lamps blazed like suns, "and a nice hiding-place they
found. I'll sit here and look round, Atkins."
He dropped into a chair near the bench and stared at the cellar. It
was large, and built of rough stones, so that it looked like a prison
cell of the Bastille. The floor was of beaten earth, the roof of
brick, built in the form of an arch, and the door was of heavy wood
clamped with iron. The brilliant illumination enabled Jennings to see
everything, even to the minutest detail of the place.
In one corner were three large dynamos, and in another a smelting pot,
and many sheets of silver and copper. Also, there were moulds of
gutta-percha arranged to hold coins in immersion. On a bench were a
number of delicate tools and a strong vice. Jennings also saw various
appliances for making coins. On rough deal shelves ranged round the
walls stood flasks and jars containing powders, with tools and a great
many chemicals. Also there were piles of false money, gold and silver
and copper, and devices for sweating sovereigns. In a safe were lumps
of gold and silver. Beside it, a bath filled with some particular
liquid used in the trade. Electric cells, acids, wooden clips to hold
the coins could also be seen. In fact the whole factory was conducted
on the most scientific principles, and Jennings could understand how so
many cleverly-prepared coins came to be in circulation. There were even
moulds for the manufacture of francs and louis.
"I daresay the gang have other places," he said to Atkins, "but this is
their headquarters, I fancy. If I can only get some of them to tell
the truth we might find the other places."
"Hale wants to confess."
"Yes. But I fancy it is about the murder of Miss Loach. She was
apparently killed to ensure the safety of this den. We must root the
coiners out, Atkins. Maraquito, who is the head of the business, is at
large, and unless we can take her, she will continue to make false
money in some other place. However, I have seen enough for the time
being. Keep guard over this place till we hear from the Yard tomorrow."
"You'll go home and lie down, sir."
"No. I intend to hear Hale's confession. By to-morrow it will be too
late. I wouldn't miss hearing what he has to say for anything."
"But can you keep up, sir?"
"Yes, yes--don't bother," said Jennings, rising, the pain making him
testy, "give me your arm, Atkins. By the way, where does the other
passage lead to? I have not enough strength to explore."
"It leads to the top of the ground, sir, and comes out into the trunk
of a tree."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, sir, it's very clever. There's an old oak near the wall, and
the trunk is hollow. All anyone has to do is to climb up through the
trunk by means of stairs and drop over the wall. The coiners were
making for that when we captured them."
"Humph! Have that place watched. Maraquito may come here to-night
after all. It is now one o'clock."
"I don't think she'll come, Mr. Jennings. But we have every point
watched. No one can come or go unless we know."
"Come along then," said Jennings, who was growing weak, "let us see
Hale. The sooner his confession is written and signed the better."
Not another word did Jennings say till he got on to the ground floor of
the villa. But he had been thinking, for when there he turned to the
man who supported him. "How is it the oak with the hollow trunk still
stands?" he asked.
"Oh, it escaped the fire, sir. Some of the boughs were burnt off but
the trunk itself is all right. It is close to the wall too."
"Humph!" said Jennings, setting his teeth with the pain, "give me a sup
of brandy out of your flask, Atkins. Now for Hale."
When he arrived in the bedroom where Hale was lying groaning, Jennings
had the factitious strength of the spirit. A sleepy-eyed clerk was
seated at the table with sheets of paper before him. A lamp was on the
table. Mrs. Barnes was crouching in a chair near the bed. When she
saw Jennings she flung herself down weeping.
"Oh, sir, I knew no more of this than a babe unborn," she wailed, "I
never thought my second was a villing. To think that Thomas--"
"That's all right, Mrs. Barnes, I quite acquit you."
"Not Barnes. Pill I am again, and Mrs. Pill I'll be to the end of my
days. To think Thomas should be a blackguard. Pill drank, I don't
deny, but he didn't forge and coin, and--"
"Wasn't clever enough, perhaps," said Hale from the bed in a weak
voice, "oh, there you are, Jennings. Get that fool out of the room and
listen to what I have to tell you. I haven't much time. I am going
fast."
Jennings induced Mrs. Pill, as she now insisted on being called, to
leave the room. Then he sat down on the bed beside the dying man.
Atkins remained at the door, and the doctor seated himself by Hale's
head with a glass of brandy. It might be needed for the revival of
Hale, who, having lost much blood, was terribly weak. But the poor
wretch was bent upon confession, and even told his story with pride.
"You had a job to take us, Jennings," he said with a weak chuckle. "I
don't know how you found us out though."
"It's too long a story to tell. But, first of all, tell me did
Maraquito come here to-night?"
"No. Are you after her?"
"Yes, I know she isn't an invalid."
"Ah, she diddled you there," said Hale with another chuckle, "a very
clever woman is Maraquito. I wished to marry her, but now I'm done
for. After all, I'm not sorry, since my pals are taken. But I did
think I'd have been able to go to South America and marry Maraquito.
I've made plenty of money by this game. Sometimes we sweated four
hundred sovereigns a day. The factory has been here for five years,
Jennings--"
"I know. The man Maxwell, who was Susan Grant's father, made the
secret entrance, and you had him killed."
"No, I didn't. Miss Loach did that. I thought she was a fool at the
time. I told her so. We could have taken Maxwell as a pal. He was
willing to come. But she thought death was best."
"And Maraquito killed Tyke?"
"No. I did that. I sent Gibber to fix him up. Tyke was a drunkard
and made a fool of himself in being arrested. He would have given the
show away, so I sent Gibber with a poisoned bottle of whisky. I knew
Tyke couldn't resist a drink. He died, and--"
"Did you kill Miss Loach also?" interrupted Jennings, casting a glance
over his shoulder to make sure that the clerk was noting all this.
Hale laughed weakly.
"No!" he said. "I fancied you would ask that. I tell you honestly
that none of us know who killed her."
"That's rubbish. You do know."
"I swear I don't. Neither does Maraquito. You haven't caught her yet
and you never will. I'm not going to split on the pals I have left,
Jennings. You have nabbed some, but there are others, and other
factories also. I won't tell you about those."
"Clancy is captured--he will."
"Don't you make any mistake. Clancy is not the fool he looks. He has
the cleverest head of the lot of us. But I'd better get on with my
confession, though it won't do you much good."
"So long as you say who killed Miss Loach--"
"Miss Loach," sneered Hale, "why not Emilia Saul?"
Jennings was almost too surprised to speak. "Do you mean to say--"
"Yes, I do. All the time you and Miss Saxon and that idiot of a
brother thought she was Selina Loach. She wasn't, but she was very
like her. Emilia met Selina in the house that is now burnt and pushed
her off the plank. The face was disfigured and Selina was buried as
Emilia."
"Then Mrs. Octagon must know--"
"She knows a good deal. You'd better ask her for details. Give me a
sup of brandy, doctor. Yes," went on Hale, when he felt better, "I
laughed in my sleeve when I thought how Emilia tricked you all. She
was Maraquito's aunt. Her name--"
"Maraquito's name is Bathsheba Saul."
"Yes. I expect Caranby told you that. He was too clever, that old
man. I was always afraid that he would find out about the factory. A
long while ago I wished Maraquito to give up the business and marry me.
Then we would have gone to South America and have lived in peace on no
end of money. Emilia left six thousand a year, so you may guess that
Maraquito and I made money also. But she was in love with Mallow, and
would not come away. I feared Caranby should take it into his head to
search the house--"
"Was that why you had it burnt?"
"No. Tyke did that out of revenge, because Maraquito marked him with a
knife. Do you think I would have been such a fool as to burn the
house. Why, Caranby would have probably let out the land, and
foundations would have been dug for new villas, when our plant would
have been discovered."
"Who are you, Hale?"
"Who do you think?" asked the dying man, chuckling.
"One of the Saul family. You have the same eyebrows as Maraquito."
"And as Mrs. Herne, who really was Maraquito."
"Yes, I know that. But who are you?"
"My real name is Daniel Saul."
"Ah! I thought you were a member of the family. There is a likeness
to Maraquito--"
"Nose and eyebrows and Hebrew looks. But I am only a distant cousin.
My father married a Christian, but I retain a certain look of his
people. He died when I was young. Emilia's mother brought me up. I
knew a lot about the coining in those days, and I was always in love
with Bathsheba, who is my cousin--"
"Bathsheba?"
"You know her best as Maraquito, so by that name I shall speak of her.
Jennings," said Hale, his voice growing weaker, "I have little time
left, so you had better not interrupt me." He took another sup of
brandy and the doctor felt his pulse. Then he began to talk so fast
that the clerk could hardly keep pace with his speech. Evidently he
was afraid lest he should die before his recital ended.
"When old Mrs. Saul lost Emilia--" he began.
"But she didn't lose Emilia," interrupted Jennings.
"She thought she had. She never knew that Emilia took the name of
Selina Loach. You had better ask Mrs. Octagon for details on that
subject. Don't interrupt. Well, when Mrs. Saul lost Emilia, she took
more and more to coining. So did her son, Bathsheba's father. They
were caught and put in prison. I was taken in hand by a benevolent
gentleman who brought me up and gave me the profession of a lawyer. I
chose that because I thought it might be handy. Then Mrs. Saul came
out of prison and her son also. Both died. Maraquito tried various
professions and finally went in for dancing. She hurt her foot, and
that attempt to gain a living failed. I was in practice then and we
started the gambling-house together. But by this time I had found
Emilia living here as Selina Loach. Mrs. Octagon can tell you how we
met. Emilia persuaded me and Maraquito to go in for the coining. She
already had Clancy interested. He was a good man at getting the proper
ring of the coins. Well, we managed to make a tunnel to the cellars of
the unfinished house, and then Emilia built the extra wing to the
villa. The secret entrances were made by--"
"By Maxwell. I know that. Go on."
"Well, we started the concern. I haven't time to tell you in detail
how lucky we were. We counterfeited foreign coins also. We all made
plenty of money. Emilia suggested Maraquito feigning to be an invalid,
so as to make things safe. False coins were passed at the
gambling-house. Maraquito came here as Mrs. Herne and had a house--or
rather lodgings--at Hampstead. We came here three times a week, and
while supposed to be playing whist, we were at the factory. Emilia
kept guard. Sometimes we went out by the door of this house and at
times by another way--"
"I know. Up the tree-trunk."
"Ah, you have found that out," said Hale in a weak voice; "what a place
it is," he murmured regretfully, "no one will ever get such another. I
can't understand how you came to find us out."
"Tell me what happened on that night?" asked Jennings, seeing that the
man was growing weaker, and fearful lest he should die without telling
the secret of the death.
"On that night," said the dying scamp, rousing himself; "well,
Maraquito quarrelled with Clancy, and went with me to the factory."
"Then you were not out of the house?"
"No. We went by the underground passage to work. Clancy went away, as
he had business elsewhere. The moment he had gone I came up from the
passage. Emilia was seated with the cards on her lap. She came with
me to the factory, and thinking Clancy might come back, she went out by
the tree-trunk way."
"What, that old lady?"
"She wasn't so very old, and as active as a cat. Besides, she did not
want Clancy to come down, as she was afraid there might be a fight
between him and Maraquito. They had quarrelled about the division of
some money, and Maraquito can use a knife on occasions."
"She did on that night."
"No. Miss Loach--I mean Emilia--never came back. We became alarmed,
as we knew people had been round the house of late--"
"Mr. Mallow--"
"Yes, the fool. We knew he had come prowling after ghosts. But he
found nothing. Well, I--" here Hale's voice died away. The doctor
gave him some more brandy and looked significantly at Jennings.
"Get him to tell all at once," he whispered, "he's going."
"Yes, I'm going," murmured Hale. "I don't mind, though I am sorry to
leave Maraquito. Well," he added, in a stronger voice. "I went out to
see what was up. We found Emilia lying dead near the tree. She had
been stabbed to the heart. A bowie knife was near. In great alarm I
got Maraquito to come out, as the body could not be left there. We
dropped it down the tree-trunk and got it into the factory. Then we
wondered what was to be done. Maraquito suggested we should take it
back to the sitting-room, and then, people being ignorant of the
passage, no one would know how Emilia had met with her death. I
thought there was nothing else to be done. We carried the body through
the passage and placed it in the chair. I arranged the cards on the
lap, knowing the servant had seen Emilia in that position, and that it
would still further throw prying people"--here Hale glanced at
Jennings--"off the scent. Hardly had we arranged this and closed the
floor, over us when we heard that someone was in the room. It was a
woman, and we heard her speaking to the corpse, ignorant that the woman
was dead. Then we heard a suppressed shriek. We guessed it was a
woman, at least I did, but Maraquito was quicker and knew more. She
said it was Miss Saxon, and at once became anxious to fix the blame on
her. But I was afraid lest things should be discovered, so I dragged
Maraquito back to the factory. I believe Miss Saxon found the knife
and then ran out, being afraid lest she should be discovered and
accused. This was what Maraquito wanted. She suddenly escaped from me
and ran back to the secret entrance. By shifting the floor a little
she saw into the room. It was then eleven. She saw also that the
knife was gone, and it struck her that Miss Saxon could not be far off."
"She was not," said Jennings, "she was hidden in the field of corn."
"Ah. I thought so. Well, Maraquito fancied that if she was arrested
with the knife before she could leave the neighborhood she would be
charged with the murder."
"But would Maraquito have let her suffer?" asked Jennings, horrified.
"Of course she would," said Hale weakly, "she hated Miss Saxon because
she was engaged to Mallow, the fool. To get her caught, Maraquito
jumped up into the sitting-room and rang the bell."
"At eleven o'clock?"
"Yes, I believe--I believe--" Hale's voice was getting weaker and
weaker. "She did ring--bell--then closed floor. Servant came--I--I--"
he stopped and his head fell back. Suddenly he half rose and looked
wildly into blank space. "Maraquito," he cried strongly, "the game's
at an end. Fly, my love, fly. We have fought and--and--lost.
Maraquito, oh my--" his voice died away. He stretched out his hand,
fell back and died with a look of tender love on his pallid face.
"Poor wretch!" said Slane pityingly, "at least he loved truly."