as far as you can--didn't I tell you he'd come out when we'd left? Be
wary!"
Melky slipped away up the street on the dark side and continued to
track the slim figure quickly advancing in the moonlight. He followed
until they had passed the front of the hospital--a few yards further,
and Yada suddenly crossed the road in the direction of the Underground
Railway. He darted in at the entrance to the City-bound train, and
disappeared, and Melky, uncertain what to do, almost danced with
excitement until Ayscough came leisurely towards him. "Quick! quick!"
exclaimed Melky. "He's gone down there--City trains. He'll be off
unless you're on to him!"
But Ayscough remained quiescent and calmly relighted his cigar.
"All right, my lad," he said. "Let him go--just now. I've seen--what I
expected to see!"
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE MORTUARY
Melky, who had grown breathless in his efforts to carry out his
companion's wishes, turned and looked at him with no attempt to conceal
his wonder.
"Well, s'elp me if you ain't a cool 'un, Mr. Ayscough!" he exclaimed.
"Here you troubles to track a chap to this here Underground Railway,
seen him pop into it like a rabbit into a hole--and let's him go! What
did we follow him up Gower Street for? Just to see him set off for a
ride?"
"All right, my lad!" repeated Ayscough. "You don't quite understand our
little ways. Wait here a minute."
He drew one of his cards from his pocket and carrying it into the
booking office exchanged a few words with the clerk at the window.
Presently he rejoined Melky. "He took a ticket for Whitechapel,"
remarked Ayscough as he strolled quietly up. "Ah! now what does a young
Japanese medical student want going down that way at eleven o'clock at
night? Something special, no doubt, Mr. Rubinstein. However, I'm going
westward just now. Just going to have a look in at the Great Western
Hotel, to see if Mr. Purdie heard anything from that American chap--and
then I'm for home and bed. Like to come to the hotel with me?"
"Strikes me we might as well make a night of it!" remarked Melky as
they recrossed the road and sought a west-bound train. "We've had such
an evening as I never expected! Mr. Ayscough! when on earth is this
going to come to something like a clearing-up?"
Ayscough settled himself in a corner of a smoking-carriage and leaned
back.
"My own opinion," he said, "is that it's coming to an end. Tomorrow,
the news of the Chinaman's murder'll be the talk of the town. And if
that doesn't fetch Levendale out of whatever cranny he's crept into,
hanged if I know what will!"
"Ah! you think that, do you?" said Melky. "But--why should that news
fetch him out?"
"Don't know!" replied Ayscough, almost unconcernedly. "But I'm almost
certain that it will. You see--I think Levendale's looking for Chen Li.
Now, if Levendale hears that Chen Li's lying dead in our
mortuary--what? See?"
Melky murmured that Mr. Ayscough was a cute 'un, and relapsed into
thought until the train pulled up at Praed Street. He followed the
detective up the streets and across the road to the hotel, dumbly
wondering how many times that day he had been in and about that quarter
on this apparently interminable chase. He was getting dazed--but
Ayscough who was still smoking the cigar which Yada had given him,
strode along into the hotel entrance apparently as fresh as paint.
Purdie had a private sitting-room in connection with his bedroom, and
there they found him and Lauriston, both smoking pipes and each
evidently full of thought and speculation. They jumped to their feet as
the detective entered.
"I say!" exclaimed Lauriston. "Is this true?--this about the Chinese
chap? Is it what they think at your police-station?--connected with the
other affairs? We've been waiting, hoping you'd come in!"
"Ah!" said Ayscough, dropping into a chair. "We've been pretty busy, me
and Mr. Rubinstein there--we've had what you might call a pretty full
evening's work of it. Yes--it's true enough, gentlemen--another step in
the ladder--another brick in the building! We're getting on, Mr.
Purdie, we're getting on! So you've been round to our place?--they told
you, there!"
"They gave us a mere outline," answered Purdie. "Just the bare facts. I
suppose you've heard nothing of the other Chinaman?"
"Not a circumstance--as yet," said Ayscough. "But I'm in hopes--I've
done a bit, I think, towards it--with Mr. Rubinstein's help, though he
doesn't quite understand my methods. But you, gentlemen--I came in to
hear if you'd anything to tell about Guyler. What did he think about
what John Purvis had to tell us this afternoon?"
"He wasn't surprised," answered Purdie. "Don't you remember that he
assured us from the very start that diamonds would be found to be at
the bottom of this. But he surprised us!"
"Aye? How?" asked Ayscough. "Some news?"
"Guyler swears that he saw Stephen Purvis this very morning," replied
Purdie. "He's confident of it!"
"Saw Stephen Purvis--this very morning!" exclaimed Ayscough. "Where,
now?"
"Guyler had business down in the City--in the far end of it," said
Purdie. "He was crossing Bishopsgate when he saw Stephen Purvis--he
swears it was Stephen Purvis!--nothing can shake him! He, Purvis, was
just turning the corner into a narrow alley running out of the street.
Guyler rushed after him--he'd disappeared. Guyler waited, watching that
alley, he says, like a cat watches a mouse-hole--and all in vain. He
watched for an hour--it was no good."
"Pooh!" said Ayscough. "If it was Purvis, he'd walked straight through
the alley and gone out at the other end."
"No!" remarked Lauriston. "At least, not according to Guyler. Guyler
says it was a long, narrow alley--Purvis couldn't have reached one end by
the time he'd reached the other. He says--Guyler--that on each side of
that alley there are suites of offices--he reckoned there were a few
hundred separate offices in the lot, and that it would take him a week
to make enquiry at the doors of each. But he's certain that Purvis
disappeared into one block of them and dead certain that it was Stephen
Purvis that he saw. So--Purvis is alive!"
"Where's the other Purvis--the farmer?" asked Ayscough.
"Stopping with Guyler at the Great Northern," answered Lauriston.
"We've all four been down in the City, looking round, this evening.
Guyler and John Purvis are going down again first thing in the morning.
John Purvis, of course, is immensely relieved to know that Guyler's
certain about his brother. I say!--do you know what Guyler's theory is
about that diamond of Stephen's?"
"No--and what might Mr. Guyler's theory be, now Mr. Lauriston?"
enquired the detective. "There's such a lot of ingenious theories about
that one may as well try to take in another. Mr. Rubinstein there is
about weary of theories."
But Melky was pricking his ears at the mere mention of anything
relating to the diamond.
"That's his chaff, Mr. Lauriston," he said. "Never mind him! What does
Guyler think?"
"Well, of course, Guyler doesn't know yet about the Chinese
development," said Lauriston. "Guyler thinks the robbery has been the
work of a gang--a clever lot of diamond thieves who knew about Stephen
Purvis's find of the orange-yellow thing and put in a lot of big work
about getting it when it reached England. And he believes that that
gang has kidnapped Levendale, and that Stephen Purvis is working in
secret to get at them. That's Guyler's notion, anyhow."
"Well!" said Ayscough. "And there may be something in it! For this
search--how do we know that at any rate one of these Chinamen mayn't
have had some connection with this gang? You never know--and to get a
dead straight line at a thing's almost impossible. However, we've taken
steps to have the news about the diamond and about this Chen Li appear
in tomorrow morning's papers, and if that doesn't rouse the whole
town--"
A tap at the door prefaced the entrance of a waiter, who looked
apologetically at its inmates.
"Beg pardon, gentlemen," he said, "Mr. Ayscough? Gentleman outside
would like a word with you, if you please, sir."
Ayscough picked up his hat and walked out--there, waiting a little way
down the corridor, an impressive figure in his big black cloak and
wide-brimmed hat, stood Dr. Mirandolet. He strode forward as the
detective advanced.
"I heard you were here, so I came up," he said, leading Ayscough away.
"Look here, my friend--one of your people has told me of this affair at
Molteno Lodge--the discovery of the Chinaman's dead body."
"That young fellow, Rubinstein, who called on you early this evening,
and got me to accompany him discovered it," said Ayscough, who was
wondering what the doctor was after. "I was with him."
"I have heard, too," continued Mirandolet, "also from one of your
people, about the strange story of the diamond which came out this
afternoon, from the owner's brother. Now--I'll tell you why after--I
want to see that dead Chinaman! I've a particular reason. Will you come
with me to the mortuary?"
Ayscough's curiosity was aroused by Mirandolet's manner, and without
going back to Purdie's room, he set out with him. Mirandolet remained
strangely silent until they came to the street in which the mortuary
stood.
"A strange and mysterious matter this, my friend!" he said. "That
little Rubinstein man might have had some curious premonition when he
came to me tonight with his odd question about Chinese!"
"Just what I said myself, doctor!" agreed Ayscough.
"It did look as if he'd a sort of foreboding, eh? But--Hullo!"
He stopped short as a taxi-cab driven at a considerable speed, came
rushing down the street and passing them swiftly turned into the wider
road beyond. And the sudden exclamation was forced from his lips
because it seemed to him that as the cab sped by he saw a yellow-hued
face within it--for the fraction of a second. Quick as that glimpse
was, Ayscough was still quicker as he glanced at the number on the back
of the car--and memorized it.
"Odd!" he muttered, "odd! Now, I could have sworn--" He broke off, and
hurried after Mirandolet who had stridden ahead. "Here we are, doctor,"
he said, as they came to the door of the mortuary. "There's a man on
night duty here, so there's no difficulty about getting in."
There was a drawing of bolts, a turning of keys; the door opened, and a
man looked out and seeing Ayscough and Dr. Mirandolet, admitted them
into an ante-room and turned up the gas.
"We want to see that Chinaman, George," said the detective. "Shan't
keep you long."
"There's a young foreign doctor just been to see him, Mr. Ayscough,"
said the man. "You'd pass his car down the street--he hasn't been gone
three minutes. Young Japanese--brought your card with him."
Ayscough turned on the man as if he had given him the most startling
news in the world.
"What?" he exclaimed, "Japanese? Brought my card?"
"Showed me it as soon as he got here," answered the attendant,
surprised at Ayscough's amazement. "Said you'd given it to him, so that
he could call here and identify the body. So, of course, I let him go
in."
Ayscough opened his mouth in sheer amazement. But before he could get
out a word, Mirandolet spoke, seizing the mortuary-keeper by the arm in
his eagerness.
"You let that man--a Japanese--see the dead Chinaman--_alone_?" he
demanded.
"Why, of course!" the attendant answered surlily. "He'd Mr. Ayscough's
card, and--"
Mirandolet dropped the man's arm and threw up his own long white hands.
"Merciful Powers!" he vociferated. "He has stolen the diamond!"
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE MIRANDOLET THEORY
The silence that followed on this extraordinary exclamation was
suddenly broken: the mortuary keeper, who had been advancing towards a
door at the side of the room, dropped a bunch of keys. The strange
metallic sound of their falling roused Ayscough, who had started aside,
and was staring, open-mouthed, at Mirandolet's waving hands. He caught
the doctor by the arm.
"What on earth do you mean?" he growled. "Speak man--what is it?"
Mirandolet suddenly laughed.
"What is it?" he exclaimed. "Precisely what I said, in plain language!
That fellow has, of course, gone off with the diamond--worth eighty
thousand pounds! Your card!--Oh, man, man, whatever have you been
doing? Be quick!--who is this Japanese?--how came he by your card?
Quick, I say!--if you want to be after him!"
"Hanged if I know what this means!" muttered Ayscough. "As to who he
is--if he's the fellow I gave a card to, he's a young Japanese medical
student, one Yada, that was a friend of those Chinese--I called on him
tonight, with Rubinstein, to see if we could pick up a bit of
information. Of course, I sent in my professional card to him. But--we
saw him set off to the East End!"
"Bah!" laughed Mirandolet. "He has--what you call done you brown, my
friend! He came--here! And he has got away--got a good start--with that
diamond in his pocket!"
"What the devil do you mean by that?" said Ayscough, hotly. "Diamond!
Diamond! Where should he find the diamond--here? In a deadhouse? What
are you talking about?"
Mirandolet laughed again, and giving the detective a look that was very
like one of pitying contempt, turned to the amazed mortuary keeper.
"Show us that dead man!" he said.
The mortuary keeper, who had allowed his keys to lie on the floor
during this strange scene, picked them up, and selecting one, opened,
and threw back the door by which he was standing. He turned on the
light in the mortuary chamber, and Mirandolet strode in, with Ayscough,
sullen and wondering, at his heels.
Chen Li lay where the detective had last seen him, still and rigid, the
sheet drawn carefully over his yellow face. Without a word Mirandolet
drew that sheet aside, and motioning his companion to draw nearer,
pointed to a skull-cap of thin blue silk which fitted over the
Chinaman's head.
"You see that!" he whispered. "You know what's beneath it!--something
that no true Chinaman ever parts with, even if he does come to Europe,
and does wear English dress and English headgear--his pigtail! Look
here!"
He quietly moved the skull-cap, and showed the two astonished men a
carefully-coiled mass of black hair, wound round and round the back of
the head. And into it he slipped his own long, thin fingers--to draw
them out again with an exclamation which indicated satisfaction with
his own convictions.
"Just as I said," he remarked. "Gone! Mr. Detective--that's where Chen
Li hid the diamond--and that Japanese man has got it. And now--you'd
better be after him--half-an-hour's start to him is as good as a week's
would be to you."
He drew the sheet over the dead face and strode out, and Ayscough
followed, angry, mystified, and by no means convinced.
"Look here!" he said, as they reached the ante-room; "that's all very
well, Dr. Mirandolet, but it's only supposition on your part!"
"Supposition that you'll find to be absolute truth, my good friend!"
retorted Mirandolet, calmly. "I know the Chinese--better than you
think. As soon as I heard of this affair tonight, I came to you to put
you up to the Chinese trick of secreting things of value in their
pigtails--it did not occur to me that the diamond might be there in
this case, but I thought you would probably find something. But when we
reached this mortuary, and I heard that a Japanese had been here,
presenting your card when he had no business to present it, I guessed
immediately what had happened--and now that you tell me that you told
him all about this affair, well--I am certain of my assertion. Mr.
Detective--go after the diamond!"
He turned as if to leave the place, and Ayscough followed.
"He mayn't been after the diamond at all!" he said, still resentful and
incredulous. "Is it very likely he'd think it to be in that dead chap's
pigtail when the other man's missing? It's Chang that's got that
diamond--not Chen."
"All right, my friend!" replied Mirandolet. "Your wisdom is superior to
mine, no doubt. So--I wish you good-night!"
He strode out of the place and turned sharply up the street, and
Ayscough, after a growl or two, went back to the mortuary keeper.
"How long was that Jap in there?" he asked, nodding at the death
chamber.
"Not a minute, Mr. Ayscough!" replied the man. "In and out again, as
you might say."
"Did he say anything when he came out?" enquired the detective.
"He did--two words," answered the keeper. "He said, 'That's he!' and
walked straight out, and into his car."
"And when he came he told you I'd sent him?" demanded Ayscough.
"Just that--and showed me your card," assented the man. "Of course, I'd
no reason to doubt his word."
"Look here, George!" said Ayscough, "you keep this to yourself! Don't
say anything to any of our folks if they come in. I don't half believe
what that doctor said just now--but I'll make an enquiry or two. Mum's
the word, meanwhile. You understand, George?"
George answered that he understood very well, and Ayscough presently
left him. Outside, in the light of the lamp set over the entrance to
the mortuary, he pulled out his watch. Twelve o'clock--midnight. And
somewhere, that cursed young Jap was fleeing away through the London
streets--having cheated him, Ayscough, at his own game!
He had already reckoned things up in connection with Yada. Yada had
been having him--even as Melky Rubinstein had suspected and
suggested--all through that conversation at Gower Street. Probably,
Yada, from his window in the drawing-room floor of his lodging-house,
had watched him and Melky slip across the street and hide behind the
hoarding opposite. And then Yada had gone out, knowing he was to be
followed, and had tricked them beautifully, getting into an underground
train going east, and, in all certainty, getting out again at the next
station, chartering a cab, and returning west--with Ayscough's card in
his pocket.
But Ayscough knew one useful thing--he had memorized the letters and
numbers of the taxi-cab in which Yada had sped by him and Mirandolet,
L.C. 2571--he had kept repeating that over and over. Now he took out
his note-book and jotted it down--and that done he set off to the
police-station, intent first of all on getting in touch with New
Scotland Yard by means of the telephone.
Ayscough, like most men of his calling in London, had a considerable
amount of general knowledge of things and affairs, and he summoned it
to his aid in this instance. He knew that if the Japanese really had
become possessed of the orange and yellow diamond (of which
supposition, in spite of Mirandolet's positive convictions, he was very
sceptical) he would most certainly make for escape. He would be off to
the Continent, hot foot. Now, Ayscough had a good acquaintance with the
Continental train services--some hours must elapse before Yada could
possibly get a train for Dover, or Folkstone, or Newhaven, or the
shortest way across, or to any other ports such as Harwich or
Southampton, by a longer route. Obviously, the first thing to do was to
have the stations at Victoria, and Charing Cross, and Holborn Viaduct,
and London Bridge carefully watched for Yada. And for two weary hours
in the middle of the night he was continuously at work on the
telephone, giving instructions and descriptions, and making
arrangements to spread a net out of which the supposed fugitive could
not escape.
And when all that was at last satisfactorily arranged, Ayscough was
conscious that it might be for nothing. He might be on a wrong track
altogether--due to the suspicions and assertions of that queer man,
Mirandolet. There might be some mystery--in Ayscough's opinion there
always was mystery wherever Chinese or Japanese or Hindus were
concerned. Yada might have some good reason for wishing to see Chen
Li's dead body, and have taken advantage of the detective's card to
visit it. This extraordinary conduct might be explained. But meanwhile
Ayscough could not afford to neglect a chance, and tired as he was, he
set out to find the driver of the taxicab whose number he had carefully
set down in his notebook.
There was little difficulty in this stage of the proceedings; it was
merely a question of time, of visiting a central office and finding the
man's name and address. By six o'clock in the morning Ayscough was at a
small house in a shabby street in Kentish Town, interviewing a woman
who had just risen to light her fire, and was surlily averse to calling
up a husband, who, she said, had not been in bed until nearly four. She
was not any more pleased when Ayscough informed her of his professional
status--but the man was fetched down.
"You drove a foreigner--a Japanese--to the mortuary in Paddington last
night?" said Ayscough, plunging straight into business, after telling
the man who he was. "I saw him--just a glimpse of him--in your cab, and
I took your number. Now, where did you first pick him up?"
"Outside the Underground, at King's Cross," replied the driver promptly.
This was precisely what Ayscough had expected; so far, so good; his own
prescience was proving sure.
"Anything wrong, mister?" asked the driver.
"There may be," said Ayscough. "Well--you picked him up there, and
drove him straight to the mortuary?"
"No--I didn't," said the man. "We made a call first. Euston. He went in
there, and, I should say, went to the left luggage office, 'cause he
came back again with a small suit-case--just a little 'un. Then we went
on to that mortuary."
Euston! A small suit-case! More facts--Ayscough made notes of them.
"Well," he said, "and when you drove away from the mortuary, where did
you go then?"
"Oxford Circus," answered the driver, "set him down--his orders--right
opposite the Tube Station--t'other side of the street."
"Did you see which way he went--then?" enquired Ayscough.
"I did. Straight along Oxford Street--Tottenham Court Road way," said
the driver, "carrying his suitcase--which it was, as I say, on'y a
little 'un--and walking very fast. Last I see of him was that, guv'nor."
Ayscough went away and got back to more pretentious regions. He was
dead tired and weary with his night's work, and glad to drop in at an
early-opened coffee-shop and get some breakfast. While he ate and drank
a boy came in with the first editions of the newspapers. Ayscough
picked one up--and immediately saw staring headlines:--
THE PADDINGTON MYSTERIES. NEW AND STARTLING FEATURES. DIAMOND WORTH
£80,000 BEING LOOKED FOR MURDER IN MAIDA VALE
Ayscough laid down the paper and smiled. Levendale--if not dead--could
scarcely fail to see that!
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ONE O'CLOCK MIDNIGHT
Five minutes after Ayscough had gone away with Dr. Mirandolet the hotel
servant who had summoned him from Purdie's sitting-room knocked at the
door for the second time and put a somewhat mystified face inside.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said, glancing at Purdie, who was questioning
Melky Rubinstein as to the events of the evening in their relation to
the house in Maida Vale. "Two ladies outside, sir--waiting to see you.
But they don't want to come in, sir, unless they know who's here--don't
want to meet no strangers, sir."
Purdie jumped to his feet, and putting the man aside looked into the
dimly-lighted corridor. There, a few paces away, stood Zillah--and,
half hidden by her, Mrs. Goldmark.
"Come in--come in!" he exclaimed. "Nobody here but Andie Lauriston and
Melky Rubinstein. You've something to tell--something's happened?"
He ushered them into the room, sent the hotel servant, obviously in a
state of high curiosity about these happenings, away, and closed the
door.
"S'elp me!" exclaimed Melky, "there ain't no other surprises, Zillah?
You ain't come round at this time o' night for nothing! What you got to
tell, Zillah?--another development?"
"Mrs. Goldmark has something to tell," answered Zillah. "We didn't know
what to do, and you didn't come, Melky--nobody come--and so we locked
the house and thought of Mr. Purdie. Mrs. Goldmark has seen somebody!"
"Who?" demanded Melky. "Somebody, now? What somebody?"
"The man that came to her restaurant," replied Zillah. "The man who
lost the platinum solitaire!"
Mrs. Goldmark who had dropped into the chair which Purdie had drawn to
the side of the table for her, wagged her head thoughtfully.