A STROKE OF POLICY.
Jack nodded significantly to his companion, as much as to signify that
Seymour must be allowed to have his own way. The latter had taken the
matter into his own hands from the first. It was quite evident that he
was working out some deep and subtle scheme, and the others were
disposed to give him a free hand.
"Would you like to see Bates now?" Jack asked.
"Most emphatically not," Seymour laughed. "It is no cue of mine to
come in contact with the police until I have seen my way quite clear.
Besides, you are by no means certain yet that Bates will be put on to
this case, and be given the opportunity of investigating the startling
burglary at the City and Provincial Bank. Again, it may be too much
for Bates's nerves if I burst upon him suddenly, and he recognizes me
as the dead Nostalgo who was so mysteriously spirited from Shannon
Street police station. No; on the whole, I should prefer that you
should go and see Bates alone. Tell him exactly what happened and what
you saw to-night, leaving me out of the question. Then come and see me
some time to-morrow afternoon, and I will tell you what to do next."
"One moment," Rigby exclaimed, as Seymour was turning away. "What was
that idea of yours about the cotton waste?"
Seymour winked significantly, and remarked that it was time he was in
bed. With a cheery nod to his companions, he turned his face in an
easterly direction and strolled off down the street.
"Now there's a clever man for you," Rigby cried. "Quite as clever a
man as Anstruther, and I should say a great deal more subtle. But let
us go as far as Shannon Street police station, and tell Bates our
story."
Bates had been detained rather late. He had only just come in, and was
preparing to go home when the two friends entered. He had no need to
ask if they had anything of importance to communicate to him--he could
glean that from the expression of the friends' faces. He led the way
to his private room, and passed the cigarettes across the table.
"It's about Carrington," Rigby explained. "But perhaps I had better go
back a bit, and tell you one or two little things you don't know."
It was a fairly long story, and it thoroughly aroused Bates to a sense
of action. His questions were clear and intelligent; he followed the
narrative, punctuating it here and there with shrewd suggestions.
"Mind you," he said. "I have been expecting something like this for a
long time. All the same, I can see that you gentlemen have only told
me half the story. Still, I can't complain, especially as I see my way
to make a good thing out of this. When I tell the people at Scotland
Yard all I know they are pretty sure to put me on the case--indeed, I
will make a special favor of it. You say that you saw Anstruther
blowing up all those locks, and you are pretty sure that the great
bulk of the plunder is in Carrington's private safe. You don't suggest
that Anstruther carried that service of plate home with him?"
"Anstruther wouldn't be such a fool," Rigby said curtly. "He is much
too cool a hand for that. He will feel quite sure that the stuff is
perfectly safe where it is, and fetch it away from the City a bit at a
time. Of course, he won't do this till the affair has blown over and
he is quite safe in so doing."
Bates was inclined to share the speaker's opinion. There was no more
to be said for the present, and he intimated his intention to go up to
Scotland Yard and ask the authorities to put him on the case. Jack and
Rigby went their respective ways, a clock somewhere striking two when
they parted at length.
Precisely as Bates had prophesied, the mysterious burglary at the City
and Provincial Bank caused the greatest sensation the following
morning. The later editions of the evening papers were full of it.
Carrington had been interviewed by more than one bright reporter;
indeed, he had been dragged out of bed for the purpose, and he had
been understood to say that the bank's loss could not fall far short
of a million unless the thieves could be promptly arrested. The story
was vividly told, Carrington's distress and agitation being expressly
accentuated.
But this was not the worst part of the distracted bank manager's
story. There had been in the possession of the bank a tremendous lot
of valuable personal property belonging to various esteemed clients.
All this had disappeared, and more than one great lady in London was
mourning the loss of her family jewels. The greatest sympathy was felt
with the bank; it was only one or two carping critics who were asking
questions.
They were pertinent questions, too; a desire, for instance, to know
what Carrington could possibly be doing on the bank premises at so
late an hour. But these were merely pin pricks, and the great bulk of
the population felt nothing but sympathy for Carrington. The only
people who had a fairly good grip of the real state of the case
besides Rigby and his companions were the Barmouths and Claire
Helmsley. Jack saw Claire in Lady Barmouth's drawing-room late the
following morning, and explained to her and Lady Barmouth what had
happened the night previous.
"It is most mysterious," Claire said, "and almost impossible to
believe that my guardian had anything to do with the matter. I dined
very quietly at home last night, and sat up till long past one
finishing a novel in which I was deeply interested. I can assure you
of this--that from half-past nine till the time I went to bed Mr.
Anstruther's violin practically did not cease. If I were brought into
the case as a witness, I should be bound to swear that my guardian was
in his study during the whole time that the burglary was taking
place."
"That is another phase of the mystery that we have to solve," Jack
said. "It is all very clever and very ingenious and very useful, but
seeing is believing. After all, Anstruther was there last night, as
three of us are prepared to testify."
"Then in that case I shall never see my jewels again," Lady Barmouth
said. "But what are the police going to do about it, Mr. Masefield?
The thing cannot be possibly allowed to remain here. If they were to
arrest Mr. Carrington at once and search his safe----"
"But the police don't work quite in that way," Jack interrupted.
"Besides, Carrington is not the only one. The chief villain in the
play is Spencer Anstruther; and at the present moment he is in a
position to prove a perfect alibi. It is not the slightest use laying
Carrington by the heels till we are in a position to prove
Anstruther's alibi to be nothing but an ingenious mechanical fraud.
Don't you recollect the case of the Ph[oe]nix Park murders? In that
case the police could have laid their hands upon half the culprits
within a few days. They preferred to wait months, until every one of
the gang were swept up in the meshes of the law. I will go and see
Bates presently, and ascertain if he has anything fresh to tell us."
It was quite late in the afternoon before Jack managed to get a few
words with the inspector. He seemed to be very cheerful and sanguine,
and dropped a hint to the effect that his morning had not been
altogether wasted.
"Oh, we are going on, right enough," he exclaimed in answer to Jack's
question. "In the circumstances, they can do nothing else. Most of my
morning has been spent in calling on the various unfortunate people
whose valuables were deposited at Carrington's bank, and getting a
full description of the same. After that I made the rounds of the
principal pawnbrokers and such people as advance money on real
property."
"Did you find anything of the missing stuff?" Jack asked eagerly. "I
mean, did you see any of it?"
Bates explained that up to now he had been successful in three
instances. He knew where to lay his hands upon the tiara of diamonds
that had only been deposited with Carrington four days ago.
"It belongs to one of our fashionable society leaders," he explained,
"and really is a most magnificent piece of work. Mind you, Carrington
must have been a great fool, or he must have been desperately pressed
for money, to pledge these things in London. He could have sent them
to Amsterdam or Paris, where they could have been broken up and
disposed of in such a manner that it would have been impossible to
trace them. This might have entailed a financial sacrifice, but see
how safe it would have been. I feel pretty sure that within the next
two days I shall trace every atom of the lost property."
"But it is usual to pledge such valuable jewels in this casual way?"
Jack asked.
"Certainly it is. The thing has been done over and over again. In a
great many instances the lady does not go through the ordeal herself,
but sends a maid or some confidential servant with a note addressed to
the pawnbroker, and asks for ten thousand pounds, or whatever it may
be. That is how this business has been worked."
"But the pawnbrokers?" Jack protested. "When they come to see a list
of the missing jewels a full story must be told."
Bates admitted the ingenuity of the suggestion. It was just possible
that there was danger in that direction. Still, as he pointed out, no
one could blame the pawnbrokers for not recognizing from a bald
printed description certain gems pledged at their establishments.
"But I think you can leave that safely to me," he said. "There is
nothing to prevent me from applying for a warrant for the arrest of
Carrington, and producing all that damning evidence from his private
safe; but by doing this we are practically allowing a greater ruffian
to escape."
Jack cordially agreed with this view of the case. He proceeded to
speak at some length as to what he had seen and heard the night before
last in Carrington's smoking-room.
"You must not forget," he said, "that the man who was with me on that
occasion is in possession of the duplicate plans of the bank cellars."
"Oh, no," Bates cried. "I have not overlooked those plans; in fact, I
particularly wish to have a glance at them. And, by the way, sir, you
appear to be very reticent over the name of the companion who was with
you on that important occasion."
"We will merely call him Seymour," Jack said, cautiously.
Bates smiled in a queer, significant kind of way.
"I will be more candid with you than you are with me," he said,
"though you have told me more than you intended. Now, tell me if my
suspicions are correct--is not this 'Seymour' and our missing Nostalgo
one and the same person? It is a mere deduction on my part, but----"
"I suppose I had better admit it at once," Jack said. "Besides, you
are bound to know sooner or later. Why not come with me and see Mr.
Seymour now?"
Bates replied that he would be only too delighted. They set off
together without delay, and presently found themselves at Seymour's
residence. The latter was doing something mysterious with a file and a
pair of handcuffs, both of which he threw aside as his visitors
entered. He extended his hand cordially to Bates.
"I am not in the least surprised to see you, inspector," he said. "In
fact, I rather wanted to do so. Now, frankly speaking, are you not a
little puzzled to know how to lay Anstruther by the heels?"
"We will come to that presently, sir," Bates said quietly. "I shall be
glad in the first place to know what hold Anstruther has on you
gentlemen who have so suffered at his hands. Anstruther is a
blackmailer, I know. But you are a man of pluck and courage--why can't
_you_ fight him in the open? I can quite understand that there are
others broken in health and spirit, who dare not have their story told
and dragged before the diabolical curiosity of the cheap press. But in
your case, why, it seems to me----"
"Yes, yes," Seymour interrupted. "But suppose you have a dear friend
in whom you are interested? And that friend had done somebody a great
wrong? And supposing that Anstruther knew all this? My friend is poor,
but I am not. Let us go farther and grant my friend a daughter--a
beautiful girl who is just coming to the front in the world of art.
She is passionately attached to her father; any disgrace to him would
break her heart. And it is in my power to save this dear child by
letting Anstruther believe that both myself and others who have
suffered are afraid of him. Surely you have heard of many such cases,
Mr. Bates?"
Bates nodded. The field was clearing wonderfully. "You will pardon
me," he said. "It was stupid of me not to think of that before. The
blackmailer generally strikes through the innocent. But another
question. Why did Anstruther publish those Nostalgo posters at all?"
"There, to a certain extent, you have me," Seymour confessed. "You
see, it is only recently that we Nostalgos have drifted together in
London. We must give Anstruther credit for having discovered this.
Mind you, there may be many others who have suffered, and are now
hiding in silence. They would be nerveless wrecks for the most part.
Anstruther probably wanted to let them know that the terror was not
dead. You see, it is like the sign of some secret society, reminding
members of the long arm. But who can say what was uppermost in the
mind of Anstruther? Suppose that the whole dramatic thing had failed
in its purpose? What then? Why, Anstruther would have probably turned
the posters to some business purpose--a new soap, a novel kind of
pill--why, many business houses would gladly buy the reversion of the
Nostalgo posters, and make a good thing out of them. I may be wrong,
but that is my view. Besides, how are we to know how many other
Nostalgos have not dropped into Anstruther's net through those
diabolical posters?"
"It is possible you are right," Bates admitted. "Nothing seems to be
impossible in the way of crime. But as to Anstruther?"
"I have a heavy debt to pay to him," Seymour said, with a ring in his
voice. "And I am in a position to show you how you can lay him by the
heels. I presume my friend Masefield has told you everything. That
being so, all you have to do is to open Carrington's private safe, and
carefully remove a service of Cellini plate which you will find there.
When I say carefully, I mean carefully--the thing is not to be
fingered. Take it away to the police station, and place it in your
glass case. Then, if you follow my advice, within eight and forty
hours I pledge you that you shall have evidence against Anstruther as
clear and convincing as if it had come from heaven itself."
A silence followed, so impressive was Seymour's speech. Then Bates,
who appeared to be utterly puzzled, promised that the thing should be
done. At the same moment, there was the sound of an altercation on the
outer landing, and a hoarse voice was heard asking some imperative
question. The voice struck familiarly on Jack's ears. He glanced
significantly at Bates.
"The very man himself," he cried.
"Yes, Anstruther," Seymour said, in his deep, ringing voice. "Friend
Anstruther. Shall we ask him in?"