THE TENTS OF UNGODLINESS
Frank Sommerville, Chief Inspector of the Criminal Investigation
Department, a big, dark-moustached man, stretched his long legs from the
easy chair in which he was sitting, some half an hour after my interview
with Lola and Edward Craig, clasped his hands behind his head, and
looking over at me, exclaimed--
"By Jove! Vidal. That's one of the most astounding stories I've ever
heard! And the young lady is actually in the next room with the 'dead'
man Craig?"
"Yes, they're ready to go up to Hampstead," I said. "If we are shrewd we
shall catch all three. They did that burglary at Bennington's, in Oxford
Street, last night."
"How do you know, my dear fellow?" he asked.
"For the simple reason that I was there," I laughed.
He looked astounded.
"I remember the report on the Cromer mystery, last June, perfectly
well," he said. "But I never dreamed that you'd taken the matter up. We
shall certainly do well if we can lay hands on Jeanjean, for we get
constant reports from Paris about his wonderful exploits. I had one only
this morning. He is suspected of having done a big job at a jeweller's
in St. Petersburg, lately."
"Very well," I answered. "Let us take a taxi up to Arkwright Road at
once. Benham, your ex-sergeant, is already there awaiting us, as well as
my servant, Rayner."
Together we entered the next room, where Craig and Lola were sitting
closely together, and I introduced them to the well-known Chief
Detective-Inspector. Then, after Sommerville had telephoned to his
office, and ordered up to Hampstead three of his men, we waited for
another quarter of an hour to give them time to get to the appointed
spot--the public-house in the Finchley Road.
At last we started, and on the way I explained many facts to my old
friend Sommerville, who, with a hearty laugh, said--
"Well, Vidal, I know you're pretty painstaking over an inquiry, but I
never thought you'd ferret out this great French jewel-thief when we had
failed! Of course, we've looked upon this man Vernon with suspicion for
some little time. He sold some stolen rubies in Antwerp two months ago,
and it was reported to us, but we couldn't get sufficient evidence. I
made some inquiry, and found that he's immensely wealthy, although he
lives such a changeful life. The house in Arkwright Road is his, but he
is never there more than two or three days at a time. He experiments in
wireless telegraphy, judging from the masts and wires in his back
garden."
I told him of Jeanjean's powerful station in Algiers, and we agreed
that, by means of a code, the pair were in the habit of exchanging
messages, just as Jeanjean did with his confederate in Genoa.
"Yes," Lola said. "At Merton Lodge there are big dynamos down in the
cellars, and when I've been with my uncle at the Villa Beni Hassan, he
has often come from the wireless room and told me he has been speaking
with his friend Vernon in London. Wireless telegraphy is wonderful, is
it not?"
Briefly I had described the murderous attack made upon the girl and
myself at that untenanted house in Spring Grove, and, as I finished, the
taxi drew up a few doors from the bar to which I had directed the man to
drive.
Ere we could alight, Benham, in the guise of a loafer, had opened the
door and touched his cap to me with a grin.
In the bar we found the three sergeants from Scotland Yard, as well as
Rayner, who was greatly excited, and, of course, unaware of the identity
of the three men who had entered casually, and were chatting at his
elbow.
"We're going to make three arrests in a house close by," Sommerville
explained to the trio. "They may make a pretty tough fight, and they
probably carry revolvers. So keep a sharp look-out."
"All right, sir," the men replied, and were quickly in readiness.
In order not to arouse the suspicion of the three men, we arranged that
Lola should first go there alone. Then we would surround the house, back
and front, while Sommerville went to the front door and made some
pretext. With a man behind him, he would wait until the door opened, and
then rush in, followed by myself and two detectives and the young man
Craig.
The arrangements were made in the private room behind the bar, and
presently Lola, bidding us a merry _au revoir_, tripped out.
We gave her about ten minutes, and then in pairs, and by different
routes, we approached the quiet, highly-respectable-looking house, first
having got a couple of constables off the beat.
While Benham, as a loafer, went round to the back entrance, under the
pretext of asking for an odd job to clean up the garden, Sommerville and
one of his men slipped in and up the front steps.
For a little time his ring remained unanswered, but suddenly the door
was opened slightly by Bertini.
For a second there was a sharp tussle, the Italian raising the alarm,
but in a few moments I found myself, with Craig and Sommerville, inside
the house.
Those moments were indeed exciting ones. Craig's only thought was for
Lola's safety, and I saw him rush down the prettily-furnished hall and
take her in his arms.
Shouts were raised on all sides.
In the scurry old Vernon dashed out of the room on the left and, meeting
Lola with her lover, raised the revolver he had drawn and fired
point-blank at her.
Fortunately, he missed. One of the detectives instantly closed with
him, and I sprang to the officer's assistance. The old fellow, his face
livid, his eyes staring wildly from his head, fought like a tiger,
trying to turn his weapon upon us. He had forced the barrel of his big
revolver right against my jaw, and was in the act of firing, when I
ducked my head, and seizing his wrist, twisted it.
At that moment there was a loud explosion, and before I knew the truth I
found his grip relaxing.
The weapon had been turned upon him as he, in desperation, had fired,
and the bullet, entering his brain, had struck him dead.
He collapsed in our arms and we laid him upon the tiled floor.
Within the room, whence the old man had come, a desperate struggle was
in progress, and entering, I found it to be a small library, at one end
of which, upon a large table, was arranged a quantity of electrical
apparatus--the various instruments necessary for wireless telegraphy.
Close to this table, as we entered, stood Jules Jeanjean in the hands of
Benham and the two detectives, while Rayner was standing covering the
culprit resolutely with the revolver which he had wrenched from the
prisoner's grasp.
Jeanjean's face was changed, his eyes wild and full of evil. In his
fierce dash for liberty his collar had been torn from its studs and the
sleeve of his smart blue serge jacket torn out. His hair was awry, and
from a long scratch on his left cheek blood was freely flowing.
Truly he presented a weird, unkempt appearance, held as he was in the
grip of those three strong, burly officers.
"Be careful!" I urged. "He'll get away if you don't exercise every care.
He's as slippery as an eel!"
At my words his captors forced him back against the wall, redoubling
their grip upon him.
Sommerville and Craig were standing beside Lola, who looked on, nervous
and pale-faced. She had been witness to the tragedy out in the hall,
and realized what a narrow escape she had had from the vicious old
scoundrel's bullet.
Bertini was in the hall, held in a merciless grip by the two constables
who had been summoned from their beats, and was standing close to the
fallen body of the man who had so long been his acknowledged master.
Jules Jeanjean, though forced against the wall by those four men, was
still wildly defiant, his face distorted by anger. He ceased struggling
in order to curse and abuse his captors, pouring out upon them torrents
of voluble French, a language with which only one of the four men,
Rayner, was acquainted, and he but slightly.
"Listen, Jules Jeanjean!" said Sommerville, in a hard, commanding voice.
"I am a police officer, and I arrest you on charges of theft and
murder."
"Fools!" snarled the prisoner in defiance. "You've made a mistake, a
great mistake! Arrest that girl yonder. Make inquiries about her, and
you will find lots that will interest you."
"It is sufficient for the present to arrest you, my friend," was the
Chief Inspector's response. "One of your comrades is outside, dead, and
the other is under arrest."
Then turning to Lola, he asked--
"Do you identify this man as Jules Jeanjean, Mademoiselle?"
"Yes," the girl replied. "He is my uncle."
"You infernal brat!" shrieked the prisoner, livid with fury. "So it is
you who have given me away, after all! I should have taken the old man's
advice, and have put you out of the way. _Dieu!_ You and your friend,
Vidal, over there, had a narrow escape at Spring Grove. Your grave was
already dug for you!"
"And yours will also be dug for you before long--when the Judge has
sentenced you to death!" I cried.
"Enough!" exclaimed Sommerville, holding up his hand to command
silence. "We want no recriminations, only the truth. You, and your
friend Bertini, will have plenty of opportunity for defending yourselves
when before the court. I think, Mademoiselle," he added, turning to
where Lola was standing beside the man once believed to be dead, "you
will have a strange story to relate to the Judge."
"She'll lie, no doubt," declared Jeanjean with a sneer. "She always
does."
"No," the girl cried in her pretty, broken English, "I shall the truth
speak. All of the truth."
"Yes," I urged, eagerly. "Reveal to us now the truth concerning the
mystery on Cromer Cliffs. How it is that Edward Craig, the man who died,
is now standing beside you!"
The prisoner, with a frantic struggle to free his arms, and throw
himself upon her, to silence her lips, made a sudden dash forward. But
his captors closed with him, pinioned him, and held him fiercely by the
throat.
Lola, standing by, drew a long breath, but remained silent.
Her frail little figure seemed unbalanced, she was unnerved and
trembling, two bright spots showing in the centre of her pale cheeks, as
she stood there. Upon her shoulder rested the tender hand of the man
whose end had been so wrapped in mystery.
"Speak, Lola," I urged again. "Have no fear of these men now. Tell us
the plain truth."
"Yes, Lola," Craig added earnestly, "tell them the strange story. There
is nothing now to be afraid of. Speak the truth and let the law deal
with that assassin."
Again Jeanjean went into a perfect paroxysm of rage. But all to no
purpose, though he bit his lips till the blood came. The men held him so
firmly that he could move neither hand nor foot.
The heavy hand of Justice had fallen upon him!