CONTAINS A CLUE
At once I knew that some startling incident had happened.
Dr. Sladen, called by the police, entered the room a few moments
afterwards, whereupon I turned to him, and in order to allay any undue
curiosity, said--
"My man has been taken ill, doctor. Exhaustion, I suppose. He's a great
walker, and, unknown to me, has apparently been out for a night ramble."
"Ah, yes," answered the quiet, old-fashioned medical man, peering at the
invalid through his glasses.
Slowly he took Rayner's pulse, and then said--
"Heart a little weak, I suppose. There's nothing really wrong--eh?"
"I think not. He was talking to me only a few moments ago, and then
suddenly fainted. Been on a long ramble, I should think."
"At night, eh?" asked the doctor in some surprise.
"It is a habit of his to walk at night. He does the same thing in
London--walks miles and miles."
We dashed cold water into Rayner's face, gave him a smelling-bottle
belonging to one of the maids, and very soon he came round again,
opening his eyes in wonder at his surroundings.
"Here's Doctor Sladen," I said. "You feel better now, don't you,
Rayner?"
"Yes, sir," was his feeble reply.
"Ah, you've been on one of your night rambles again," I said
reprovingly. "You over-do it, you know."
Then Sladen asked him a few questions, and finding that he had
recovered, shook my hand and left.
The instant the door was closed upon the doctor Rayner sat up, and with
a serious expression upon his face said--
"Something has happened, sir. I don't know what. I'll tell you all I
know. I went up to the railway arch as you directed, and lay down in the
hedge to wait. After a long time the foreigner from the Overstrand Road
came along, lit a cigar, and waited. He was wearing an overcoat, and I
suppose he must have waited a full half-hour, until, at last, the
cyclist came. They had a brief talk. Then the cyclist left his cycle
about fifty yards from where I was in hiding, and both men set off
towards the town. I, of course, followed at a decent distance, and they
didn't hear me because of the rubber soles on my boots."
"Well, what then?" I inquired impatiently.
"They separated just against the _Albion_, and then followed one another
past the church, and to the left, behind this hotel, and along to the
house where the dead man lived--the house you pointed out to me. Close
by they met another man who, in the darkness, I took to be a chauffeur.
But I had, then, to draw back into a doorway to watch their movements.
The chap I took to be a chauffeur, after a few words with the two
foreigners, came along in my direction, and passed within a yard of me,
when of a sudden he turned and faced me. 'What are you doing here?' he
asked quickly. 'Nothing,' was my reply. 'Then take that for your
inquisitiveness,' he said, and in a second I felt something over both my
nose and mouth. It was only for a second, but I recollect I smelt a
strong smell of almonds; and then I knew no more, nothing until I found
myself here."
"That's most extraordinary!" I exclaimed. "Then you don't know what
became of the three men?"
"Not in the least, sir," Rayner replied. "I was so thoroughly taken
aback, that I must have gone down like a log."
"Then, that's all you know?"
"Yes, sir."
Scarcely had he finished relating his strange adventure than Inspector
Treeton entered, and greeting me, explained how Rayner had been found by
a constable, lying senseless, about three miles out of the town on the
road to Holt.
By that I knew he must have been conveyed there, probably by a
motor-car, driven by the chauffeur who had so mysteriously attacked him,
apparently at the foreigners' orders. It was Jeanjean's work, no doubt.
The Frenchman had seemingly eyes at the back of his head, and had
evidently detected that his actions were being spied upon.
To the police inspector I made no mystery of the affair, merely
replying, as I had to the doctor, that my manservant was in the habit of
taking long walks, long nocturnal rambles, and that he evidently had
overdone it.
"Doctor Sladen has already been here and seen him," I added. "He says
he's quite right again."
This satisfied the highly-esteemed local inspector, and presently he
left us, expressing the hope that Rayner would very soon be himself once
more.
"Well," I said to my man when the inspector had gone, "it's evident that
while you were unconscious they picked you up, put you in the car, and
tipped you out upon the road outside the town. Perhaps they believed you
to be dead."
"Like enough, sir," he said, smiling grimly.
"They evidently trapped you, Rayner," I said, laughing. "You were not
sharp enough."
"But, who'd have thought that the fellow could have come straight for
me, and rendered me insensible in a tick--as he did?" asked my man as he
lay, still extended on the bed, a dirty, dishevelled figure. "I know I
was caught, sir; those men were cleverer than I was, I admit."
"Yes, Rayner," was my reply. "I don't blame you in the least. I'm only
glad that your plight isn't worse. The men had a motor-car, it seems, at
their disposal somewhere, and they went in the direction of Holt."
"That appears so, sir."
"Why, I wonder? Bertini probably obtained his machine and followed the
car. They must have gone either through Wells and Fakenham, or East
Dereham."
"Back to Norwich, perhaps, sir. All roads from here seem to lead to
Norwich."
"But you say the incident happened close to Beacon House, where old
Gregory lived--eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then they objected to you being present. Evidently something was
intended and you prevented it."
"No. Perhaps I didn't prevent it. They prevented me instead."
Rayner was a bit of a humorist.
"Quite likely," I answered, smiling. But I was full of chagrin that I
had been out all night, waiting on that lonely road, while that
mysterious affair had been in progress.
"Well, at any rate, Rayner, you've had a very funny experience," I said,
with a laugh.
"And not the first, sir, eh?" he replied, stretching lazily on the bed.
"Do you recollect that funny case at Pegli, just outside Genoa? My word,
those two assassins nearly did me in that night, sir."
"And three nights later we gave them over to agents of the Department of
Public Security," I said. "Yes, Rayner, you had a tough half-hour, I
know. But you're an adventurer, like myself. As long as we solve a
mystery we don't regret the peril, or the adventure, do we?"
"No, sir. I don't--as long as you give a guiding eye over it. But I
tell you straight, sir, I don't like detectives. They're chumps, most of
'em."
"No. Don't condemn them," I said. "Rather condemn the blind and silly
police system of England. The man who snares a rabbit gets a conviction
recorded against him, while the shark in the city pays toll to the Party
and becomes a Baronet. I'm no socialist," I added, "but I believe in
honesty in our daily life. Honesty in man, and modesty in woman, are the
two ideals we should always retain, even in this age of degeneracy and
irreligion."
"I think the local police are blundering the whole of this affair,"
Rayner went on. "Yet I can't make out by what means I was so suddenly
put out of action. That curious, strong smell of almonds puzzles me.
It's in my nostrils now."
"Your fancy, I expect," I said.
At that moment came a knock at the door, and the tall young constable
entered, the same man who had been on duty when I had gone up to inspect
the seat where Craig's body had been found.
"The Inspector has sent me, sir," he exclaimed, saluting, "to say he'd
like to see you at once. He's just along the West Cliff--at Beacon
House, where Mr. Craig lived in."
"Certainly," I replied. "Tell him I will come at once."
The constable disappeared, and turning to Rayner, I said: "I wonder why
Treeton wishes to see me in such a hurry? What has happened now?" Then,
promising to return quickly, I went out.
At Beacon House, I found Treeton standing in the front sitting-room, on
the ground-floor, talking seriously with the landlady.
"Hulloa! Mr. Vidal," he exclaimed as I entered. "Something more has
occurred in this house during the night. The place has been broken into
by burglars, who've got clean away with all old Mr. Gregory's collection
of jewellery."
"Burglary," I repeated slowly; and then all that Rayner had told me
flashed across my mind. I saw the reason for Jeanjean and his mysterious
cyclist companion being near the house, and also why Rayner, on being
detected, had been rendered senseless.
"Have you found any trace of the thieves?" I asked, having already
decided to keep my own information to myself.
"Lots of traces," laughed Treeton. "Come and see for yourself."
We ascended the stairs, followed by the excited landlady and her
husband.
"This is really terrible," moaned the woman. "I wish we'd never set eyes
upon the poor young man and his uncle. We heard nothing in the night,
nothing. In fact, I didn't discover that the room had been opened until
an hour ago, when I was sweeping down the stairs. Then I noticed that
the seals placed upon it had been broken, and the lock sawn right out.
Why we didn't hear them, I can't think!"
"Ah, you don't hear much when the modern burglar is at work," declared
Treeton. "They're far too scientific for that."
He showed me the door, from which the lock had been cut away, saying--
"They evidently got in by the window of the room downstairs, where we've
just been, for it was found closed but not latched. They came up these
stairs, cut out the lock, as you see--and look at that!" he added as we
entered the old man's room.
The strong old sea-chest stood in the centre of the room. The lid, which
had been nailed down, and sealed by the police, had been wrenched off
and the box stood empty!
"Look!" cried Treeton again. "Every scrap gone--and it must have been a
pretty bulky lot--a couple, or even three, sacksful at the least."
I went to the two windows which overlooked the narrow street behind, and
examining the sills, saw marks where the paint had recently been rubbed
away.
"Yes, I see," I remarked, "and they lowered the plunder to confederates
outside."
"But who could have known of the existence of the jewellery, here?"
asked Treeton. "Only ourselves were aware of it. At the inquest all
mention of it was carefully suppressed."
"Somebody, of course, must have talked, perhaps unthinkingly, about it,
and the news got round to the thieves," remarked the landlord.
I remained silent. Had I not, from the first, marvelled that old Mr.
Gregory should disappear and leave behind him that collection of
valuables?
"I've wired to Norwich, to Frayne, to come over at once, and see if he
can find any finger-prints," said the local inspector. "We've discovered
something here which the burglars left behind. Look at this."
And from a corner of the room he picked up something and handed it to
me.
It was a woman's little, patent leather walking-shoe, with two white
pearl buttons as fastening. The size I judged to be threes, but, as it
was still fastened, it must have been too large for the wearer, who
apparently having dropped it, was unable for some reason to regain it,
and so left it behind.
"That's very strange!" I said, turning the little shoe over in my hand.
It was not much worn, and of very good quality. "A woman has evidently
been here!"
"Evidently, Mr. Vidal," replied the officer. "But surely a woman would
never have the pluck to do a job of this sort. Nine people slept in this
house last night and never heard a sound."
Truth to tell, I did not expect they would have done, now that I knew
the robbery had been engineered by Jules Jeanjean.
"Very remarkable--very," I declared. "Probably Frayne, when he takes the
finger-prints, will find some clue," I added, laughing inwardly, for I
knew that those who had committed that robbery were far too clever to
leave behind any traces of their identity. Besides, to actually lower
the booty down into a public street showed a daring spirit which one
only finds in the most expert criminals.
I could not, however, account for the discovery of that little shoe. Had
it really been lost--or had it been placed there in order to mystify and
mislead the police?
The latter suggestion had, of course, never entered Treeton's head.
"I wonder," I said to him, "if you would allow me to take this shoe
along to the hotel? I want to take the exact measurements."
"Certainly, Mr. Vidal," was his reply. "You'll send it round to me, at
the station, afterwards?"
"In an hour you shall have it," I promised him. Then I placed the shoe
in my pocket, and made a tour of the room, touching nothing because of
Frayne's coming hunt for finger-prints.
Jeanjean always wore gloves, skin-thin, rubber-gloves, which left no
trace of his light touch. The curved lines of his thumb and forefinger
were far too well known in Paris, in London, in Berlin and Rome, where
the bureaux of detective police all possessed enlarged photographs of
them.
Back in my room at the _Hôtel de Paris_, I took from a drawer the
plaster cast of the woman's footprints I had found near the spot where
Craig had been found.
Then, carrying it down to the shore near the pier, I made a print with
the cast in the wet sand left hard by the receding tide.
Afterwards, I took the tiny, patent leather shoe from my pocket, and
placed it carefully in the print.
It fitted exactly.