CAUGHT!
Bates had laid his plans very carefully and very well indeed. In many
respects Rigby had got the best of the detective, but this was as much
due to circumstances as anything else. Still, when it came to the
technical side of the case, Rigby was no match for the inspector. It
was nearly nine o'clock before Bates called at Carrington's rooms and
asked to see the latter. There was no occasion yet for Bates to assume
the very effective disguise with which he was to trick Anstruther.
There would be plenty of time for that. Carrington was just finishing
his dinner--so his man said. He was not very well, and did not care to
see anybody. But Bates put the man aside in his own easy way, and
walked into the dining-room without the trouble of announcing himself.
That Carrington was suffering from some mental and physical excitement
was perfectly plain. His face was ghastly pale, his eyes were
bloodshot, and there was a twitching of his lips which told a plain
tale to an experienced officer like Bates. Carrington scowled, and
demanded the meaning of this unwarrantable intrusion.
"I don't think you will find it unwarrantable when you have heard me
to the finish," Bates said. "Nor will it pay you to take this tone
with me. I am an inspector from Scotland Yard, and unless you answer
my questions freely, I shall have to put them in a more disagreeable
form."
Carrington changed his note altogether. His face became still more
pallid. He motioned Bates to a chair. He would have found it hard to
have spoken just then. Bates waited a moment to give the other time to
recover. Carrington at length found words to ask Bates what his
business was with him.
"It is with regard to your affair at the bank," the inspector
explained. "You may not be aware of the fact, but the case has been
placed in my hands by my superiors."
"Oh, you are alluding to the burglary," Carrington said.
"We will call it a burglary for the present," Bates replied, with a
significance that there was no mistaking. "I have gone into the matter
carefully, and I have come to the conclusion that there was no
burglary at all."
Carrington jumped to his feet with a well-simulated air of
indignation. He advanced towards Bates threateningly.
"You insolent scoundrel!" he cried. "What do you mean? Do you know you
are dealing with a gentleman and man of honor?"
"Softly, softly," Bates replied. "I think we had better understand one
another. I have in my possession at the present moment a warrant for
your arrest for fraud and embezzlement, relating to certain jewels and
other valuables deposited in your keeping by various clients. It is in
my power to execute that warrant at once. The case is much too serious
a one for bail, and it is for you to say whether you will remain for
the present in your comfortable quarters, or pass, at any rate, the
next two months in jail."
Carrington made no further show of fight. He collapsed into his chair,
and wiped his wet forehead distractedly.
"You don't mean that," he groaned. "There must be some terrible
mistake here. Why, all the evidences pointed to an ingenious and
daring burglary. The night watchmen were drugged, as you know, and the
thieves employed dynamite to blow up the safes. No one regrets the
loss of all those valuables more than I do, but even banks are not
secure against the modern burglar. Those safes were crammed full of
valuables, as I could easily prove."
"They were," Bates corrected. "But I am in a position to prove a few
things, too. You would give a great deal, I suppose, to know where
those valuables are?"
Carrington replied to the effect that he would give half his fortune
for the desired information. Bates smiled.
"You need not worry about it," he said. "I have a list in my pocket of
the big pawnbrokers in London where most of the goods were pledged. In
three cases the pawnbrokers in question are in a position to swear to
the identity of the man who handled the jewels. You would not, of
course, mind meeting these people?"
But Carrington had no reply. He looked so helplessly at Bates that the
latter could not but feel sorry for him. "I am afraid the game is up,
sir," he said. "My investigations of this case prove most conclusively
that you are at the bottom of the whole thing. We know perfectly well
that recent speculations of yours have brought about a financial
crisis in your bank. In your desperate need, you realized the
securities which certain clients had left in your hands. It was only
when Lady Barmouth called for her gems that the situation became
acute. But that will form the basis of another charge."
"But that was all a mistake," Carrington gurgled eagerly. "I sent Lady
Barmouth her gems, but they proved to be those belonging to somebody
else. I assure you that was quite an error."
Bates shrugged his shoulders impatiently. He was getting annoyed with
this, man, who refused to follow his lead. "We know all about that
ingenious fraud," he said. "We are quite aware of that clever business
of the paste gems, for which you gave £200 at Clerkenwell. You paid
for that rubbish with Bank of England notes marked with the stamp of
your establishment. It was a very happy idea of yours and
Anstruther's."
Carrington groaned feebly; he began to fear the very worst.
"You seem to know everything," he said. "Perhaps you can tell me the
story of the burglary?"
"I am coming to that presently," Bates said coolly. "Now you were at
your wits' ends to know what to do. You knew perfectly well that many
of your clients would require their jewels for Lady Barmouth's dance.
They were not forthcoming, for the simple reason that they had been
pledged elsewhere. You had not the necessary cunning to devise some
scheme to shift the blame from your shoulders, so you called in your
friend Anstruther. It was he who hit upon the idea of the burglary. It
was you who placed temptation in the way of the night watchmen through
the medium of a couple of bottles of drugged port wine. After that the
rest was easy. You had only to enter the bank with your own keys----"
"Stop a moment," Carrington cried eagerly. "You seem to forget that
even I cannot enter the vaults of the bank without duplicate keys in
the possession of various cashiers."
"Now, listen to me," Bates said impressively. "This discussion is
absolutely irregular. It is my plain duty to arrest you at once and
convey you to Bow Street. But if you help me, I may be in the position
later on to do you a service. We know precisely how Anstruther used
the dynamite; we know precisely what happened in the vaults, and how
most of the few valuables that remained were conveyed to your own
private safe. More than that, we are perfectly well aware what fee
Anstruther demanded for his trouble. Need I go into the matter of that
service of Cellini plate?"
Carrington threw up his hands with a gesture of despair. He was
crushed and beaten to the ground by the tremendous weight of evidence
with which Bates was overwhelming him.
"It is no use fighting any longer," he said. "I confess to everything.
I shall plead guilty, and afford you every information in my power. Do
you want me to come along with you now?"
On the whole, Bates rather thought not. He had effected his purpose,
and sooner or later Carrington would have to become his prisoner. He
knew that the latter would speak freely enough, like the craven coward
that he was; but there was Anstruther to be thought of. Bates rose to
leave.
"You can remain where you are for the present," he said. "But if you
will take my advice, you will make no attempt to escape--you are too
carefully watched for that; and now, good-night."
Bates went off in the direction of the City feeling that the last hour
had not been wasted. On the strength of recent information, he would
have felt justified in arresting Anstruther also. But he had a
wholesome admiration for that individual, and the more evidence
secured against him the better. Therefore it was that Bates was about
to carry out the latter part of the programme, in which he was to play
the part of substitute for "Simple Charlie." The programme had been
easily arranged. There had been no difficulty in persuading the
burglar to write the desired letter to Anstruther, and Bates had made
up his mind from the first that the mythical Maggs should be none
other than himself. From first to last the thing worked admirably.
Anstruther was utterly deceived by the detective's admirable disguise,
which he had assumed after leaving Carrington, and had fallen headlong
into the trap.
Therefore it was that the two men stood facing one another in
Carrington's office. Anstruther white and furious, Bates coolly
contemptuous, with a revolver in his hand.
"What have you to say for yourself?" Bates asked. "Have you any reason
to show why I should not take you straight to Bow Street on the charge
of burglary?"
Anstruther was fighting hard to regain possession of himself. Bates
could not but admire the marvelous courage of the man. Anstruther's
laugh had something quite genuine about it.
"We are making a great fuss over a little thing," he said. "I came
here because Mr. Carrington was not well enough to accompany me. There
are certain things of mine in my friend's private safe here, and
unfortunately he has lost the key. It was imperative that I should
have my property to-night, and that will, perhaps, explain my presence
here. Does that satisfy you?"
"I should be easily satisfied if it did," Bates said coolly. "I should
like to know, for instance, why you require the assistance of a
professional burglar. I know perfectly well that you called in the
assistance of 'Simple Charlie,' but I was in a position to force that
individual's hand--hence my appearance in his place."
"Really, Mr. Bates," Anstruther smiled. "I had expected better things
from you. You are perfectly well aware of the fact that I am
acquainted with half the thieves in London. It was no use asking any
safe-maker in London to try to pick that lock, because it happens to
be a French make. In such awkward circumstances as this it is no new
thing to call in a cracksman when things are wanted in a hurry."
"I am afraid that won't do," Bates said. "You had plenty of time to
call in legitimate assistance, whereas so recently as last night you
visited 'Simple Charlie' and left a note for him."
Anstruther smiled politely. He was perfectly cool and collected now--a
match for any detective in the force.
"We can settle the matter in two minutes," he said. "All you have to
do is to call in one of your men from outside and send a note to
Carrington, who will reply to the effect that I am here with his full
knowledge and consent."
"Can't do it," Bates said curtly. "I have no man to send. As a matter
of fact, I am alone in this business."
Anstruther bent down his head to conceal a smile. There was something
devilish in the cunning ferocity of his eyes. He had discovered an
important fact, and Bates did not seem to understand for the moment
what he had given away. He felt quite sure that he had matters in his
own hands now. He strolled slowly round the table, and proceeded to
examine carefully the lock of the safe.
"Do you really think you could open this?" he asked. "If you could I
should have no difficulty in proving to you----" Anstruther broke off
suddenly; his left foot shot out dexterously, and Bates came half
stumbling on his knees. Like lightning Anstruther grabbed for the
revolver. He had Bates's wrist in a grip of steel, forcing his hand
back till the fingers were bound to relax their grip on the weapon. A
moment later the revolver was kicked away, and the two men were
struggling desperately on the floor.
There was no mistaking the look on Anstruther's face. He was going to
murder Bates if he could. It would never do for any living soul to
know that he was here to-night. Once Bates's mouth was silenced
forever, he could hurry back to Panton Square, and there prove such an
alibi as would hold good in any legal court in the world. All these
things passed through that wily brain as his hands clutched closer at
Bates's throat.
It was touch and go with the latter. The only thing he could do was to
fight for his breath, and husband his strength for a final effort
later on. He looked straight into the gleaming eyeballs of his
assailant now, but he could not see the faintest suggestion of pity
there. The world began to dance before his eyes; a thousand stars
seemed to be bursting from the dark sky; then came along the corridor
the echo of fast-approaching footsteps.
"Curse it," Anstruther muttered. "Another moment, and I should have
been safe. Take that, you hound."
With one final blow he jumped to his feet, and, sprinting across the
office floor, darted into the shadow of the night.