"How does one address a duke?" Rose asked, looking up from the depth of
her easy-chair.
"No idea," I replied. "I don't suppose we shall see anything of him."
"I only knew one," Leonard murmured reminiscently. "He was at Harrow and
we used to call him Tubby."
"I don't see that that's going to help us," Rose remarked. "However----"
Then the door of our sitting room opened and to our surprise our host
entered. He bowed to Rose and nodded to us in friendly fashion.
"Very good of you to come down here and help us along," he said,
pleasantly ignoring the fact that we were being paid fifty pounds a week
and our expenses to help provide his guests with entertainment. "I hope
you're quite comfortable?"
We all three murmured an unqualified affirmative. The arrangements made
for our comfort were indeed beyond criticism.
"You're not any relation to the Cotton who started bowling googlies for
Harrow in his last term, I suppose?" the Duke queried, addressing
Leonard.
Leonard modestly pleaded guilty, and our host showed his first signs of
real interest.
"You'll play for the Castle this afternoon?" he begged. "We're playing
the rest of the County, and they're bringing a pretty hot side. Our
batting's all right but our bowling's rotten."
"I haven't played for two years," Leonard said, a little doubtfully.
"At three o'clock," the Duke announced, ignoring Leonard's hesitation.
"You'll find a couple of pros down at the nets if you want a knock
first. Don't give your bowling away too much, as some of the enemy are
prowling around."
Our host took gracious leave of us. Rose watched him curiously.
"Maurice," she observed, as the door closed, "there's something queer
about this place."
"I suppose there must be," I admitted, "or we shouldn't be here."
"Exactly what are our instructions?" Leonard enquired.
"Vague," I replied. "The only letter I received from our chief told me
to accept the offer through Keith Prowse, to come here, to sit tight and
study conditions."
"What did he mean by 'conditions'?" Rose asked.
"Just get in touch with our environment, I suppose. For instance, here
we are with half a dozen others, brought up to Westmoreland to amuse the
Duke's house party. We are being treated royally, the house party seems
to comprise some of the best-known names in England, and the whole thing
seems to be marvellously done."
"But so far no glimmering as to how or where we may come in?" Leonard
persisted.
"Not the slightest," I admitted. "Of course, this place is a perfect
treasure house. They say that the jewels alone are insured for more than
two millions. There may be some robbery scheme on."
"Perhaps," Rose suggested, "we are to be the thieves. In that case, I'll
keep one of the famous pink pearls if I have to swallow it."
I looked out across the park and a certain feeling of depression stole
over me. We were alone in a little sitting room which had been made over
to our exclusive use.
"I can't help wishing," I confessed, "that we knew a little more where
we stood. We've been working for Mr. Thomson now for the best part of a
year, and there isn't one of us three can tell whether we've been
helping the greatest crook the world has ever known, or a master
detective."
"I'm not sure that I care," Rose said sweetly.
Leonard helped himself to a cigarette.
"When I think of that night at Cromer," he reflected--"you remember how
wet it was, how the wind howled, and we hadn't enough fire in our
lodgings, or enough money to buy food?--when I think of those days and
realise how life has changed since our mysterious god came out of the
machine, I feel very much like Rose. I feel like a pagan, Maurice. We're
back again in our old lives, wearing the right sort of clothes, eating
and drinking like civilised beings, travelling in comfort, and with a
bank account growing all the time. It's good enough for me."
"And for me," Rose echoed.
I fell in with their mood. After all, the sun was shining and a long
summer's day lay before us.
"Begone, dull care," I invoked, "at any rate until our next letter of
instructions arrives. Into flannels, Leonard, and then to the nets. I
suppose they'll let me have a knock."
"I shall come and watch," Rose decided graciously.
Our entertainment at Lorringham Castle was in its way princely. We had a
suite of rooms to ourselves, and a dining room which we shared with
Charles Jacoty, the leader of the Duke's private orchestra, David
Faraday, the famous illusionist, a Mrs. Middleham, widow of the Duke's
private chaplain, who arranged the dance programmes and painted the
menus, and a young man--Gerald Formby--the son of Sir James Formby, the
agent to the estate, who presided at the dinner table and from whom we
heard most of the gossip of the place. It was on the evening after the
cricket match that we received from him the first inkling as to what the
nature of our mission might be.
"Have you seen the Lorringham treasures yet?" he asked Rose.
She shook her head.
"I don't even know what they are."
The young man appeared incredulous.
"You mean to say that you haven't heard of the Lorringham pearls and the
seven tiaras?"
"I've heard of them vaguely," she replied. "I didn't even know that they
were on view."
Jacoty leaned a little forward in his chair. Faraday also appeared to be
interested. The young man lowered his voice a little. There was
inherited awe in its inflexion.
"The Lorringham pink pearls," he said, "are the most famous in history,
although they are very seldom seen. They were last worn, in fact, by
Eleanor, Duchess of Lorringham, at Queen Victoria's wedding. The seven
tiaras are famous throughout the world. The earliest dates from the time
of Charles the First."
"And they are really on view?" Rose asked.
"Not to the public. Whenever there is a house party here, they are
generally shown to the guests."
"They are immensely valuable, these jewels?" Faraday enquired.
"They are insured for two millions," was the young man's portentous
reply.
There was a little silence. I chanced to glance at Faraday, and I was
almost startled by the gleam in his sunken eyes. He sat like a man in a
brown study, tapping the tablecloth with his fingers.
"Has any attempt at robbery ever been made?" Leonard asked.
Gerald Formby shook his head.
"They are too well guarded," he said.
"It is interesting, this," Faraday remarked quietly. "Are the jewels
kept in safes?"
The young man smiled.
"The room in which they are is in itself a safe. There are steel
shutters to the windows, and steel safes let into the wall. There is a
man on guard outside, day and night, and the only key in existence which
could unlock the safes is in the possession of the Duke himself."
My eyes met Leonard's. For the first time I understood the only three
words of admonition which we had received:
Watch the Duke.
Faraday spoke what was in my own mind.
"That fact may do away with some risk," he observed, "but isn't it
rather a danger to his Grace? Fancy being in constant possession of a
key which secures a treasure like that!"
"And you mean to say that no one has ever made any attempt to steal
them?" Rose asked.
"Once only, twenty-two years ago, in the late Duke's time," Formby
admitted. "A gang of burglars--they say that Charles Peace was one of
them--broke into the Castle, but they never got anywhere near the room.
Soon after that these shutters were built, and the safes let into the
wall, and quite recently an American expert came over, who designed the
lock. Robbery is now an impossibility."
We gave our first performance later on that evening. The Duke himself
came up and congratulated us afterwards. He invited us to join the rest
of the guests, a courteous offer of which, however, we did not avail
ourselves.
"You will at least join my personally conducted party," he suggested,
turning to Rose, "and have a look at the Lorringham treasures? I am
taking a few of my guests there at eleven o'clock. I shall expect you
three."
We accepted that invitation willingly enough, and the Duke returned to
his guests. Afterwards, Faraday gave one of the most astonishing
performances of sleight of hand I have ever seen. With scarcely any
appliances, he succeeded in puzzling everybody. One of the guests,
selected at random, was made to disappear in such a fashion that he
himself, when questioned afterwards, was utterly confused about his
experience. Later on he brought a locked-up mastiff from his kennel and
a singing bird down from the top of the great hall. The Duke, with
several of his companions, came up to congratulate the illusionist.
Faraday received their compliments with the grave pleasure of one who
recognises his supremacy. As the Duke was leaving, he addressed him.
"I heard your Grace inviting Miss Mindel and her companions to inspect
the treasure chamber to-night," he said. "May I be permitted to
accompany them?"
The Duke seemed on the point of giving a ready consent, then suddenly he
hesitated. He looked at Faraday with a dubious smile.
"After that performance of yours, Mr. Faraday," he confessed, "I really
don't know what to say. I seem to have a horrible vision of watching my
tiaras come out through the steel doors, and my pink pearls drop out
from the ceiling into your waistcoat pocket."
Faraday did not smile. It seemed to me that he was very much in earnest.
"I will undertake to refrain from any extempore performance," he said.
"As a matter of fact, your Grace, there are limitations to my magic."
The Duke turned away. He seemed rather to resent the other's
persistence.
"Another time, perhaps," he promised, a little coldly. "My party
to-night is made up."
Faraday was standing a little in the shadows and I watched him eagerly.
From that moment our mission to Lorringham Castle seemed to become
clearer to me.
An hour or so later, our host led a small company of us to the treasure
chamber. We paused outside a green baize door leading into one of the
galleries, which was guarded by a servant in the livery of the house.
The Duke, with a word of apology, took off his coat and rolled up his
shirt sleeves, disclosing a plain platinum band around his arm.
"This is an American idea," he explained.
He touched a spring in the band, one side opened and disclosed a key,
attached to a thin chain of platinum wire. With this he unlocked the
door of a small chamber, brilliantly lit. One side of the room seemed to
be composed, up to the height of about six feet, of solid steel
shutters. The Duke fitted the other end of the key into a concealed
crevice. There was a little click, and the whole of the shutters rolled
back. From behind windows of solid plate-glass, on a background of black
velvet, were displayed the famous tiaras, rows of marvellous pearls,
some of them as large as marbles and pink as sea coral, and a further
collection of magnificent jewellery. There seemed to be an almost
universal gasp of astonishment. The women of the party especially were
speechless.
[Illustration: There seemed to be an almost universal gasp of
astonishment. _Page_ 216.]
"We keep them like this instead of in coffers," the Duke explained, "so
that they can be shown without being handled."
"Supposing you wanted to get at them?" some one asked.
"There is a secret spring," he replied, "which releases these windows.
You should look at the diamonds in that Queen Anne tiara, Lady
Mordaunt," he added, turning to one of his guests. "The greatest
diamond expert in the world, who was here last year, declared that he
had never seen stones to match those in his life."
We gazed, we admired, we marvelled. In a few minutes the show was over,
the doors locked, the key back in its wonderful hiding place, and the
Duke's coat once more hanging from his shapely shoulders.
"I don't wear this platinum affair except when I am down here," he told
us. "The rest of the time I leave it at my banker's. Tell me what you
are thinking about, Miss Mindel?" he asked, turning to her with a smile.
Rose answered him frankly.
"I was wondering why you wouldn't let Mr. Faraday come with us."
The Duke frowned slightly.
"Well," he admitted, "I suppose it was foolish of me. All the same, the
man's performance took away my breath. Of course," he went on, "I know
that it was all illusion, and yet it doesn't seem to me any more
wonderful to think of his thrusting his hand through my plate-glass
windows and helping himself to my pearls, than to perform some of the
feats he achieved this evening. The guardianship of several million
pounds' worth of family treasures," he concluded, with an apologetic
smile, "sometimes tends to make one unreasonable."
Leonard and I turned into the little smoking room assigned to our use,
after we had said good night to Rose. Faraday was seated there alone,
with a block and pencil in his hand, apparently making idle sketches. He
laid the block by his side, face downwards, at our entrance.
"Well," he said, a little ill-naturedly, "I suppose you've seen the
treasures?"
"We have," I admitted, helping myself to a whisky and soda.
"Are they as wonderful as report says?" he enquired.
"I'm no judge," I told him, a little shortly.
"By the bye, there's a note for you on the table."
I recognised at once the familiar, typewritten envelope--a message from
the chief. Leonard looked over my shoulder as I tore open the envelope:
Watch Faraday. Suspect Edwards, one of the custodians.
Registered post to-morrow brings you key of door leading to
balcony, end of north gallery.
I tore the note into small pieces. Faraday sat watching me with gloomy
curiosity.
"Nothing annoying, I hope?" he queried.
I watched the pieces filter through my fingers into the waste-paper
basket.
"Nothing of any importance," I assured him.
The next day several things happened. In the first place, the key of the
door leading to the little gallery facing the jewel chamber arrived,
wrapped in tissue paper and with an obliterated postmark. Secondly, I
took five wickets for fifteen against the team brought over from a
neighbouring country house, and Leonard, by indefensible slogging,
managed to knock up fifty-five before he was caught on the boundary.
These last two episodes seemed to obliterate all memory of the
professional character of our stay. The Duke, who had played a very
useful innings himself, and whose joy at winning the match was almost
like a schoolboy's, treated us as honoured guests and insisted upon all
three of us accepting his invitation to dine in the great hall that
evening. The third event of the day was the coming of the Princess Anne
of Chantilly, the last representative of a famous French family, a great
heiress, related to royalty, and one of the beauties of the world. The
three of us chanced to witness her arrival, and our host's secret was
manifest in the first few minutes. In her presence he seemed
rejuvenated. He watched her every movement. The slight austerity of his
tone and deportment vanished as though by magic. A new and more genial
side of him appeared. He paid his court almost openly. It did not need
the gossip of the place to tell us that he was her suitor.
I was ready for dinner early that evening and strolled up and down the
north gallery, waiting for Rose, who was naturally taking some pains
with her toilette. I made my way as though by accident to the notice
board containing the names of the watchmen selected from the
menservants of the establishment. There were eleven altogether, and the
watch for the next twenty-four hours had just been put in. For the first
time I saw there the name of Edwards. He was on duty, it seemed, from
three to six on the following morning. I felt a little shiver of
excitement as I strolled away, after a surreptitious glance at the
little gallery. The beginning of my task was close at hand.
Dinner that night was a pageant rather than a meal. Sixty-four of us sat
down at a long table, the decoration of which with hothouse flowers had
taken two gardeners the greater part of the day. We were served from
gold plate and we drank strange wines from Venetian glasses. The Duke
sat at one end of the table, with the Princess at his right hand, and
his sister, the Marchioness of Leicestershire, sat at the other end. The
Princess, of whom I had a good view, was one of the most beautiful women
I had ever seen. She was fair and slim, with a perfect complexion, dark,
rather tired eyes, a fascinating mouth, and corn-coloured hair, whose
seemingly simple arrangement was an artistic triumph. The one
remarkable thing about her, though, was that she wore not a single
article of jewellery. Her neck and bosom were bare, her fingers were
ringless. I ventured to remark upon this fact to my neighbour, whose
acquaintance I had made on the cricket field. She glanced down the table
and nodded.
"The Princess has strange fancies," she remarked. "I have seen her
wearing the Chantilly emeralds at a small dinner party, and afterwards
go to a Court function wearing the jewels of an ingénue."