At ten precisely next morning, as usual, Mr. Ludwig Hamer mounted the
stairs of the house in Hatton Garden, wherein he rented half a room
as office. He was a tall, fair man, wearing thick convex _pince-nez_.
He spoke English like a native, and, indeed, he called himself an
Englishman, though there were those who doubted the Briticism of his
name. Scarce had he entered his office when Dorrington followed him.
The room had never been a very large one, and now a partition divided
it in two, leaving a passage at one side only, by the window. On each
side of this partition stood a small pedestal table, a couple of
chairs, a copying-press, and the other articles usual in a meagrely
furnished office. Dorrington strode past Bouvier's half of the room
and came upon Hamer as he was hanging his coat on a peg. The letter
of introduction had been burnt, since Dorrington had only asked for
it in order to get Hamer's name and the Hatton Garden address without
betraying to Bouvier the fact that he did not already know all about it.
"Good morning, Mr. Hamer," said Dorrington, loudly. "Sorry to see
you're not well"--he pointed familiarly with his stick at a range of
medicine bottles on the mantelpiece--"but it's very trying weather, of
course. You've been suffering from toothache, I believe?"
Hamer seemed at first disposed to resent the loudness and familiarity
of this speech, but at the reference to toothache he started suddenly
and set his lips.
"Chloroform's a capital thing for toothache, Mr. Hamer, and for--for
other things. I'm not in your line of business myself, but I believe
it has even been used in the diamond trade."
"What do you mean?" asked Hamer, flushing angrily.
"Mean? Why, bless me--nothing more than I said. By the way, I'm afraid
you dropped one of your medicine bottles last night. I've brought it
back, though I'm afraid it's past repair. It's a good job you didn't
quite clear the label off before you took it out with you, else I might
have had a difficulty." Dorrington placed the fragments on the table.
"You see you've just left the first letter of 'E.C.' in the druggist's
address, and the last 'N' of Hatton Garden, just before it. There
doesn't happen to be any other Garden in E.C. district that I know of,
nor does the name of any other thoroughfare end in N--they are mostly
streets, or lanes, or courts, you see. And there seems to be only one
druggist in Hatton Garden--capital fellow, no doubt--the one whose name
and address I observe on those bottles on the mantelpiece."
Dorrington stood with his foot on a chair, and tapped his knee
carelessly with his stick. Hamer dropped into the other chair and
regarded him with a frown, though his face was pale. Presently he said,
in a strained voice, "Well?"
"Yes; there _is_ something else, Mr. Hamer, as you appear to suggest.
I see you're wearing a new pair of glasses this morning; pity you
broke the others last night, but I've brought the piece you left
behind." He gathered up the broken bottle, and held up the piece of
concave lens. "I think, after all, it's really best to use a cord with
_pince-nez_. It's awkward, and it catches in things, I know, but it
saves a breakage, and you're liable to get the glasses knocked off, you
know--in certain circumstances."
Hamer sprang to his feet with a snarl, slammed the door, locked it, and
turned on Dorrington. But now Dorrington had a revolver in his hand,
though his manner was as genial as ever.
[Illustration: "DORRINGTON HAD A REVOLVER IN HIS HAND."]
"Yes, yes," he said; "best to shut the door, of course. People listen,
don't they? But sit down again. I'm not anxious to hurt you, and, as
you will perceive, you're quite unable to hurt me. What I chiefly came
to say is this: last evening my client, M. Léon Bouvier, of this office
and the Café des Bons Camarades, was attacked in the passage adjoining
his house by a man who was waiting for him, with a woman--was it really
Mrs. Hamer? but there, I won't ask--keeping watch. He was robbed of
a small old wooden box, containing charcoal and--a diamond. My name is
Dorrington--firm of Dorrington & Hicks, which you may have heard of.
That's my card. I've come to take away that diamond."
Hamer was pale and angry, but, in his way, was almost as calm as
Dorrington. He put down the card without looking at it. "I don't
understand you," he said. "How do you know I've got it?"
"Come, come, Mr. Hamer," Dorrington replied, rubbing the barrel of his
revolver on his knee, "that's hardly worthy of you. You're a man of
business, with a head on your shoulders--the sort of man I like doing
business with, in fact. Men like ourselves needn't trifle. I've shown
you most of the cards I hold, though not all, I assure you. I'll tell
you, if you like, all about your little tour round among the druggists
with the convenient toothache, all about the evenings on which you
watched Bouvier home, and so on. But, really, need we, as men of the
world, descend to such peddling detail?"
"Well, suppose I have got it, and suppose I refuse to give it you. What
then?"
"What then? But why should we talk of unpleasant things? You won't
refuse, you know."
"Do you mean you'd get it out of me by help of that pistol?"
"Well," said Dorrington, deliberately, "the pistol is noisy, and it
makes a mess, and all that, but it's a useful thing, and I _might_ do
it with that, you know, in certain circumstances. But I wasn't thinking
of it--there's a much less troublesome way."
"Which?"
"You're a slower man than I took you for, Mr. Hamer--or perhaps you
haven't quite appreciated _me_ yet. If I were to go to that window and
call the police, what with the little bits of evidence in my pocket,
and the other little bits that the druggists who sold the chloroform
would give, and the other bits in reserve, that I prefer not to talk
about just now--there would be rather an awkwardly complete case of
robbery with violence, wouldn't there? And you'd have to lose the
diamond after all, to say nothing of a little rest in gaol and general
ruination."
"That sounds very well, but what about your client? Come now, you call
me a man of the world, and I am one. How will your client account for
the possession of a diamond worth eighty thousand pounds or so? He
doesn't seem a millionaire. The police would want to know about him as
well as about me, if you were such a fool as to bring them in. Where
did _he_ steal it, eh?"
Dorrington smiled and bowed at the question. "That's a very good
card to play, Mr. Hamer," he said, "a capital card, really. To a
superficial observer it might look like winning the trick. But I think
I can trump it." He bent farther forward and tapped the table with the
pistol-barrel. "Suppose I don't care one solitary dump what becomes of
my client? Suppose I don't care whether he goes to gaol or stays out of
it--in short, suppose I prefer my own interests to his?"
"Ho! ho!" Hamer cried. "I begin to understand. You want to grab the
diamond for yourself then?"
"I haven't said anything of the kind, Mr. Hamer," Dorrington replied,
suavely. "I have simply demanded the diamond which you stole last
night, and I have mentioned an alternative."
"Oh, yes, yes, but we understand one another. Come, we'll arrange this.
How much do you want?"
Dorrington stared at him stonily. "I--I beg your pardon," he said, "but
I don't understand. I want the diamond you stole."
"But come now, we'll divide. Bouvier had no right to it, and he's out.
You and I, perhaps, haven't much right to it, legally, but it's between
us, and we're both in the same position."
"Pardon me," Dorrington replied, silkily, "but there you mistake. We
are _not_ in the same position, by a long way. You are liable to an
instant criminal prosecution. I have simply come, authorised by my
client, who bears all the responsibility, to demand a piece of property
which you have stolen. That is the difference between our positions,
Mr. Hamer. Come now, a policeman is just standing opposite. Shall I
open the window and call him, or do you give in?"
"Oh, I give in, I suppose," Hamer groaned. "But you're a deal too hard.
A man of your abilities shouldn't be so mean."
"That's right and reasonable," Dorrington answered briskly. "The wise
man is the man who knows when he is beaten, and saves further trouble.
You may not find me so mean after all, but I must have the stone first.
I hold the trumps, and I'm not going to let the other player make
conditions. Where's the diamond?"
"It isn't here--it's at home. You'll have to get it out of Mrs. Hamer.
Shall I go and wire to her?"
"No, no," said Dorrington, "that's not the way. We'll just go together,
and take Mrs. Hamer by surprise, I think. I mustn't let you out of
sight, you know. Come, we'll get a hansom. Is it far?"
"Bessborough Street, Pimlico. You'll find Mrs. Hamer has a temper of
her own."
"Well, well, we all have our failings. But before we start, now,
observe." For a moment Dorrington was stern and menacing. "You wriggled
a little at first, but that was quite natural. Now you've given in;
and at the first sign of another wriggle I stop it once and for all.
Understand? No tricks, now."
They entered a hansom at the door. Hamer was moody and silent at first,
but under the influence of Dorrington's gay talk he opened out after
a while. "Well," he said, "you're far the cleverest of the three, no
doubt, and perhaps in that way you deserve to win. It's mighty smart
for you to come in like this, and push Bouvier on one side and me on
the other, and both of us helpless. But it's rough on me after having
all the trouble."
"Don't be a bad loser, man!" Dorrington answered. "You might have had a
deal more trouble and a deal more roughness too, I assure you."
"Oh yes, so I might. I'm not grumbling. But there's one thing has
puzzled me all along. Where did Bouvier get that stone from?"
"He inherited it. It's the most important of the family jewels, I
assure you."
"Oh, skittles! I might have known you wouldn't tell me, even if you
knew yourself. But I should like to know. What sort of a duffer must
it have been that let Bouvier do him for that big stone--Bouvier of
all men in the world? Why, he was a record flat himself--couldn't tell
a diamond from a glass marble, I should think. Why, he used to buy
peddling little trays of rotters in the Garden at twice their value!
And then he'd sell them for what he could get. I knew very well he
wasn't going on systematically dropping money like that for no reason
at all. He had some axe to grind, that was plain. And after a while he
got asking timid questions as to the sale of big diamonds, and how it
was done, and who bought them, and all that. That put me on it at once.
All this buying and selling at a loss was a blind. He wanted to get
into the trade to sell stolen diamonds, that was clear; and there was
some value in them too, else he couldn't afford to waste months of time
and lose money every day over it. So I kept my eye on him. I noticed,
when he put his overcoat on, and thought I wasn't looking, he would
settle a string of some sort round his neck, under his shirt-collar,
and feel to pack up something close under his armpit. Then I just
watched him home, and saw the sort of shanty he lived in. I mentioned
these things to Mrs. H., and she was naturally indignant at the idea of
a chap like Bouvier having something valuable in a dishonest way, and
agreed with me that if possible it ought to be got from him, if only
in the interests of virtue." Hamer laughed jerkily. "So at any rate we
determined to get a look at whatever it was hanging round his neck, and
we made the arrangements you know about. It seemed to me that Bouvier
was pretty sure to lose it before long, one way or another, if it had
any value at all, to judge by the way he was done in other matters.
But I assure you I nearly fell down like Bouvier himself when I saw
what it was. No wonder we left the bottle behind where I'd dropped it,
after soaking the shawl--I wonder I didn't leave the shawl itself, and
my hat, and everything. I assure you we sat up half last night looking
at that wonderful stone!"
"No doubt. I shall have a good look at it myself, I assure you. Here is
Bessborough Street. Which is the number?"
They alighted, and entered a house rather smaller than those about it.
"Ask Mrs. Hamer to come here," said Hamer, gloomily, to the servant.
The men sat in the drawing-room. Presently Mrs. Hamer entered--a
shortish, sharp, keen-eyed woman of forty-five. "This is Mr.
Dorrington," said Hamer, "of Dorrington & Hicks, private detectives. He
wants us to give him that diamond."
The little woman gave a sort of involuntary bounce, and exclaimed.
"What? Diamond? What d'ye mean?"
"Oh, it's no good, Maria," Hamer answered dolefully. "I've tried it
every way myself. One comfort is we're safe, as long as we give it
up. Here," he added, turning to Dorrington, "show her some of your
evidence--that'll convince her."
Very politely Dorrington brought forth, with full explanations, the
cork and the broken glass; while Mrs. Hamer, biting hard at her thin
lips, grew shinier and redder in the face every moment, and her hard
gray eyes flashed fury.
"And you let this man," she burst out to her husband, when Dorrington
had finished, "you let this man leave your office with these things in
his possession after he had shown them to you, and you as big as he is,
and bigger! Coward!"
"My dear, you don't appreciate Mr. Dorrington's forethought, hang it! I
made preparations for the very line of action you recommend, but he was
ready. He brought out a very well kept revolver, and he has it in his
pocket now!"
Mrs. Hamer only glared, speechless with anger.
"You might just get Mr. Dorrington a whisky and soda, Maria," Hamer
pursued, with a slight lift of the eyebrows which he did not intend
Dorrington to see. The woman was on her feet in a moment.
"Thank you, no," interposed Dorrington, rising also, "I won't trouble
you. I'd rather not drink anything just now, and, although I fear I
may appear rude, I can't allow either of you to leave the room. In
short," he added, "I must stay with you both till I get the diamond."
"And this man Bouvier," asked Mrs. Hamer, "what is his right to the
stone?"
"Really, I don't feel competent to offer an opinion, do you know,"
Dorrington answered sweetly. "To tell the truth, M. Bouvier doesn't
interest me very much."
"No go, Maria!" growled Hamer. "I've tried it all. The fact is we've
got to give Dorrington the diamond. If we don't he'll just call in the
police--then we shall lose diamond and everything else too. He doesn't
care what becomes of Bouvier. He's got us, that's what it is. He won't
even bargain to give us a share."
Mrs. Hamer looked quickly up. "Oh, but that's nonsense!" she said.
"We've got the thing. We ought at least to say halves."
Her sharp eyes searched Dorrington's face, but there was no
encouragement in it. "I am sorry to disappoint a lady," he said, "but
this time it is my business to impose terms, not to submit to them.
Come, the diamond!"
"Well, you'll give us something, surely?" the woman cried.
"Nothing is sure, madam, except that you will give me that diamond, or
face a policeman in five minutes!"
The woman realised her helplessness. "Well," she said, "much good may
it do you. You'll have to come and get it--I'm keeping it somewhere
else. I'll go and get my hat."
Again Dorrington interposed. "I think we'll send your servant for the
hat," he said, reaching for the bell-rope. "I'll come wherever you
like, but I shall not leave you till this affair is settled, I promise
you. And, as I reminded your husband a little time ago, you'll find
tricks come expensive."
The servant brought Mrs. Hamer's hat and cloak, and that lady put them
on, her eyes ablaze with anger. Dorrington made the pair walk before
him to the front door, and followed them into the street. "Now," he
said, "where is this place? Remember, no tricks!"
Mrs. Hamer turned towards Vauxhall Bridge. "It's just over by Upper
Kennington Lane," she said. "Not far."
She paced out before them, Dorrington and Hamer following, the former
affable and business-like, the latter apparently a little puzzled.
When they came about the middle of the bridge, the woman turned
suddenly. "Come, Mr. Dorrington," she said, in a more subdued voice
than she had yet used, "I give in. It's no use trying to shake you off,
I can see. I have the diamond with me. Here."
She put a little old black wooden box in his hand. He made to open
the lid, which fitted tightly, and at that moment the woman, pulling
her other hand free from under her cloak, flung away over the parapet
something that shone like fifty points of electric light.
[Illustration: "THERE'S YOUR DIAMOND, YOU DIRTY THIEF!"]
"There it goes!" she screamed aloud, pointing with her finger. "There's
your diamond, you dirty thief! You bully! Go after it now, you spy!"
The great diamond made a curve of glitter and disappeared into the
river.
For the moment Dorrington lost his cool temper. He seized the woman by
the arm. "Do you know what you've done, you wild cat?" he exclaimed.
"Yes, I do!" the woman screamed, almost foaming with passion, while
boys began to collect, though there had been but few people on the
bridge. "Yes, I do! And now you can do what you please, you thief! you
bully!"
Dorrington was calm again in a moment. He shrugged his shoulders and
turned away. Hamer was frightened. He came at Dorrington's side and
faltered, "I--I told you she had a temper. What will you do?"
Dorrington forced a laugh. "Oh, nothing," he said. "What can I do?
Locking you up now wouldn't fetch the diamond back. And besides I'm
not sure that Mrs. Hamer won't attend to your punishment faithfully
enough." And he walked briskly away.
"What did she do, Bill?" asked one boy of another.
"Why, didn't ye see? She chucked that man's watch in the river."
"Garn! that wasn't his watch!" interrupted a third, "it was a little
glass tumbler. I see it!"
* * * * *
"Have you got my diamond?" asked the agonised Léon Bouvier of
Dorrington a day later.
"No, I have not," Dorrington replied drily. "Nor has your cousin
Jacques. But I know where it is, and you can get it as easily as I."
"_Mon Dieu!_ Where?"
"At the bottom of the river Thames, exactly in the centre, rather to
the right of Vauxhall Bridge, looking from this side. I expect it will
be rediscovered in some future age, when the bed of the Thames is a
diamond field."
The rest of Bouvier's savings went in the purchase of a boat, and
in this, with a pail on a long rope, he was very busy for some time
afterward. But he only got a great deal of mud into his boat.
_THE AFFAIR OF THE "AVALANCHE
BICYCLE AND TYRE CO., LIMITED"_