"'Adolph Meyer, born 1864. Financier. Son of Jacob Meyer of Düsseldorf.
M.A. London University, Commander of de Victorian Order, Chevalier of de
Legion of Honour. Address: 16, Lombard Street, E.C., and St. George's
Island, Bournemouth.' Dat is all. Dere are no clubs and no acres. I have
de orders because I did service to England and France. I am M.A. of
London University because, when I was a young man behind de counter in
de bank all day, I worked for my dekree by night; and now I am here, and
you are where I like to put you, Sir Rubert Inkledree."
"Bournemouth Police Station," suggested Mr. Marvell, who was aching to
get to business.
"Bournemouth Police Station?" repeated Mr. Meyer slowly. "No, Mr.
Marvell; I tink not. I am Master of Arts of London University and reader
of Blato, letting alone de odder dings. He shall go free, and Mr.
Marvell, you will blease forket de incident. I telekraft for you on
Saturday. You came, but dere was noding. Dat is what you will report,
please, at Scotland Yard.
"But you, Sir Rubert, you will not forket. You will remember. You will
neider kill nor rob akain, because it is de wish of Mr. Adolph Meyer,
who makes you free instead of sending you to de Police Station.
"Also, Sir Rubert, I suchest dat you give up dat Club dat Mr. Marvell
speaks of. See, you have my Holbein in your pocket. Take it, since you
want it. Show it to your friends, and say dat Mr. Meyer, who is M.A. of
London University, Commander, Chevalier and tcheneral treamer, says dat
dey had better disbant, for de stars are singing, and Mr. Marvell is
watching."
Mr. Marvell folded up his handcuffs methodically, and replaced them in
his pocket. He was too well trained to show the intense disgust he felt
at the turn the proceedings had taken.
Again the burglar endeavoured to speak, but once more Mr. Meyer
commanded silence.
"Mr. Marvell will see you to your boat, Sir Rubert," he said. "I drust
dat you will weigh my words well. It is not often dat I say so many, and
dey have caused me some inconvenience to speak, as I am not accustomed
to spend Monday nights in my marine villa. To be here I had dis
afternoon to postpone an interview wid de Turkish Ambassador, which I
have since learnt by telekram from Constantinople has been misconstrued.
De Sultan will not sleep much to-night, and in de morning newspapers
dere will be talk of drouble in de Balkan States. Some peoples will be
fearing war, Sir Rubert, and all on account of you and your midnight
photokraphings. I wonder what Dommas Carlyle would say to a mess like
dat. Goot night."
Mr. Meyer turned abruptly on his heels, and left the room.
"Come along, Sir Rupert, please," said Mr. Marvell. In the brilliant
moonshine they went along the terrace by the stone dogs, and down the
steps to the beach. They found the boat by the trees.
"How did Mr. Meyer come to suspect my errand?" said Ingletree suddenly.
The detective smiled a wan smile.
"Well, sir," he replied, "I wasn't present when you saw him on Saturday,
but I think that Mr. Meyer read you through as if you were a
book--printed in pretty big letters, too. It was a rather thin tale,
that about the magazine article, and when you asked to see round the
house Mr. Meyer was certain that you had some special object in view.
When you inquired after the miniatures he knew what you were after, as
the papers had lately been full of the Holbein. To make sure on the
point he didn't show it to you, and of course you asked to see it. Then
he telegraphed to Scotland Yard, and they sent me."
"How did you find out who I was, and why I wanted the miniature?"
"Ah," said Mr. Marvell drily, "I'll tell you that some day later on, Sir
Rupert. We shall probably meet again."
Then the baronet put out to sea, and the detective went back to the
Tuscan Villa.
* * * * *
On the following evening, at the meeting of the Burglars' Club, the
Secretary produced the Holbein miniature, and read a letter from Sir
Rupert Ingletree which accompanied it. Then the President rose.
"My lords and gentlemen," he said, "we have just heard the singular
adventure which has befallen one of our members. The Holbein miniature
is here, but only owing to the goodwill of its owner. Sir Rupert
Ingletree is at liberty owing to the forbearance of the same gentleman.
Under the circumstances I think we have no option but to accept the
resignation of Sir Rupert, who does not appear to have acted with the
adroitness which is a necessary qualification of our members. It may
well be that you or I would have done no better under similar
circumstances, but I need hardly remind you that in this club we judge
only by results, and the results in this instance are not satisfactory.
"There is a further matter to consider--a message from Mr. Meyer, which
demands a reply. Colonel Altamont, as the _doyen_ of our club, we look
to your premature grey hairs for guidance."
Altamont rose amidst general applause.
"Your Grace, my lords and gentlemen," he began. "It is surely
unnecessary to ask for my opinion on the situation. Our existence is
now known to the outside world. Twice has this detective, Marvell, been
within reach of us. Someone has betrayed us, and I for one do not intend
to rest until I have traced that traitor. But this is not the matter
before us now.
"Though Mr. Meyer objects to sport, he has behaved like a perfect
sportsman. (Hear, hear.) For his courtesy we wish to express our hearty
thanks and appreciation; but for his suggestion that we should disband
we surely have one answer only, and that is: Never, never, never."
The words were re-echoed on all sides.
"Our club would indeed have fallen on degenerate days," continued
Altamont, when quiet was restored, "if the fact of its existence being
known were promptly to bring about its end. Surely the fact that we are
watched should give an added zest to our proceedings, which have been
all too monotonously serene. The knowledge that Scotland Yard is acting,
and that we carry our personal liberty in our hands, should spur us on
to the Homeric deeds for the perpetration of which we exist.
"Ingletree's postscript is pathetic, and vividly shows the present
unbalanced state of his mind. He asks whether we consider that under Mr.
Meyer's terms he is at liberty to fish. My own feeling is that I would
have suffered a long period of incarceration rather than have
surrendered my right to act as a free and independent Englishman; but
Ingletree, having accepted his liberty on Mr. Meyer's stupendous terms,
has surely forfeited his right to again take life in any form. If he so
much as nets a minnow he has no option but to surrender himself
forthwith at the Bournemouth Police Station.
"We all regret the loss of our once brilliant member, but it is obvious
from Ingletree's behaviour during the last few days that he is not the
man he was when he paid his entrance fee by the production of--what was
it, Mr. Secretary?--the Mace of the House of Commons?"
"No, sir," replied the Secretary. "That was Mr. Henderson's fee. Sir
Rupert Ingletree entered with the Portland Vase, from the British
Museum."
"Ah, quite so. Thank you. And a very smart bit of work it was, I
remember. It is regrettable that Sir Rupert could not be here in person
this evening to advance any extenuating circumstances; but as he is
probably under the surveillance of Scotland Yard we appreciate his
reason for adopting the medium of the Postmaster-General for
communicating with us. I therefore propose that Sir Rupert Ingletree's
resignation be accepted, and that, with the Holbein picture, which we at
once return to its owner in accordance with our rule, we send a letter
expressing our appreciation of Mr. Meyer's magnanimity, and our regret
that we are unable to disband. We can leave it to our Secretary to couch
this in the neat epigrammatic style for which he is famed in the
Chancelleries of Europe."