"THIRTY MEN WHO WERE ALL ALIKE"
The room was so inconveniently crowded that dancing was a mere farce,
only kept up by the loyal support of Mrs. Rohscheimer's compatriots. The
bulk of the company crowded around in intermingling groups, to the
accompaniment of ceaseless shuffling and murmuring which all but drowned
the strains of the celebrated orchestra. But lining the wall around was
a rank of immaculately groomed gentlemen who seemed to assume a closer
formation as Haredale, from behind the palms, observed them.
In two particulars this rank excited his curiosity.
The individuals comprising it were, as Rohscheimer had pointed out,
remarkably alike, being all of a conventional Army type; and they were
unobtrusively entering, one behind the other, and methodically taking up
their places around the room!
Even as he watched, the last man entered, and the big double doors were
closed behind him!
"What's this, Haredale?" came a hoarse whisper from Rohscheimer. "Where
are these Johnnies comin' from? Does Mrs. R. know they're here?"
"Couldn't say," was the reply. "But it would be a simple matter for a
number of impostors to gain access to the house whilst dancing was in
progress, provided they came in small parties and looked the part."
"Impostors!" growled Rohscheimer uneasily. "Don't you think they've been
invited, then?"
"Well, who shut those doors?" muttered Haredale, leaning across the
little table the better to observe what was going forward.
"You don't mean----" began Rohscheimer, and broke off, as the orchestra
dashed through the coda of the waltz and ceased.
For stark amazement froze the words upon his tongue.
Coincident with the last pair of dancers performing their final gyration
and the hum of voices assuming a louder tone, each of the men standing
around the walls produced a brace of revolvers and covered the
particular group nearest to him!
The conversational hum rose to a momentary roar, and ceased abruptly.
The horns of taxi-cabs passing below could be plainly heard, and the
drone and rattle of motor-buses. Men who had done good work in other
emergencies looked down the gleaming barrels, back to the crowds of
women--and had no inspiration, but merely wondered. Nobody moved. Nobody
fainted.
"Held up!" came, in pronounced Kansas, from somewhere amongst the crush.
"Quick!" whispered Haredale. "We're overlooked! Through the
conservatory, and----"
"Pardon me!"
Rohscheimer and Haredale turned, together, and each found himself
looking directly into the little ring of a revolver's muzzle. A tall,
slim figure in faultless evening dress stood behind them, half in the
shadows. This mysterious stranger had jet black hair, and wore a black
silk half-mask.
The melodramatic absurdity of the thing came home strongly to Haredale.
But its harsh reality was equally obvious.
"Perhaps," continued the masked speaker, in a low, refined voice, and
with a faint, elusive accent, "you will oblige me, Mr. Rohscheimer, by
stepping forward so that your guests can see you? Sir Richard
Haredale--may I trouble you?"
Rohscheimer, his heavy features slightly pale, rose unsteadily.
Haredale, after a rapid glance about him, rose also, with tightened
lips; and the trio moved forward into full view of the assembled
company.
"The gentlemen surrounding you," said the man in the mask, slightly
raising his voice, "are all sworn to the Cause which I represent. You
would, perhaps, term them anarchists!"
An audible shudder passed through the assemblage.
"They are desperate men," he continued, "indifferent to death, and
would, without compunction, shoot down everyone present--if I merely
raised my hand! Each of them is a social pariah, with a price upon his
head. Let no man think this is a jest! Any movement made without my
permission will be instantly fatal."
_Dzing!_ went the bell of a bus below. _Grr-r-r!_ went the motor in
re-starting. _OO-oo! OO-oo!_ came from the horn of a taxi-cab. And
around the wall stood the silent rank with the raised revolvers.
"I shall call upon those gentlemen whom I consider most philanthropic,"
resumed the musical voice, "to subscribe to my Cause! Mr. Rohscheimer,
your host, will head the list with a diamond stud, valued at one
thousand guineas, and two rings, representing, together, three thousand
pounds! Place them on that pedestal, Mr. Rohscheimer!"
"I won't do it!" cried the financier, in rising cadence. "I defy you!
I----"
"Cut it!" snapped Haredale roughly. "Don't be such a cad as to expose
women----" He had caught sight of a pretty, pale face in the throng,
that made the idea of these mysterious robbers opening fire doubly,
trebly horrible. "It goes against the grain, but hand them over. We can
do nothing--yet!"
"Thank you, Sir Richard!" said the masked spokesman, and waved aside the
hand with which Haredale proffered his own signet ring. "I have not
called upon you, sir! Mr. Hohsmann, your daughters would feel affronted
did you not give them an opportunity of appearing upon the subscription
list! The necklace and the aigrette will do! I shall post, of course, a
formal receipt to Hamilton Place!"
And so the incredible comedy proceeded--until thousands of pounds' worth
of jewellery lay upon the pedestal at the foot of a bronze statuette of
Pandora!
"The list is closed!" called the spokesman. "Doors!"
Open came the doors at his command, and revealed to those who could see
outside, a double rank of evening-dress bandits.
"The company," he resumed, "will pass out in single file to the white
drawing-room. Mr. Rohscheimer--will you lead the way?"
In sullen submission out went Rohscheimer, and after him his guests--or,
rather, his wife's guests--until that whole brilliant company was packed
into the small white room. Someone had thoughtfully closed the shutters
of the windows giving on Park Lane, and securely screwed them; so that,
when the last straggler had entered, and the door was shut, they were in
a trap!
"Listen, everybody!" came Haredale's voice. "Keep cool! You fellows by
the door--get your shoulders to it!"
At his words, the men standing nearest to the door turned to execute
these instructions, and were confronted by the following type-written
notice pinned upon the white panels:--
"A detailed subscription list will appear in the leading papers
to-morrow, and it will doubtless relieve and gratify subscribers to
learn that _the revolvers were not loaded_!"
There was little delay after that. Within sixty seconds the door was
open; within three minutes the wires were humming with the astounding
news.
Tom Sheard, his work completed, was about to leave the _Gleaner_ office,
when--
"Sheard!" shouted the news editor from an upper landing. "Amazing
business at Rohscheimer's in Park Lane! Robbery! Brigands! Terrific! Off
you go! Taxi!"
And off went Sheard without delay.
He entered Park Lane, to find that part of the thoroughfare adjacent to
the financier's house packed with vehicles of all sorts and sizes. Women
in full dress, pressmen, policemen, loafers, were pouring out and
rushing in to Mr. Rohscheimer's residence! Never before was such a scene
witnessed at that hour of the night in Park Lane.
As he passed under the awning, pressing his way towards the steps, he
encountered an excited young gentleman who wore a closed opera hat, but
was evidently ignorant of his interesting appearance. This young
gentleman he chanced to know, and having rectified the irregularity in
his toilet, from him he secured some splendid copy.
"You see, I just dropped in to take a look round, and as I strolled up a
mob of jokers jumped out of a cab just in front of me, and we all
crawled in together, sort of thing. I happened to notice a footman going
upstairs and two of the jokers I spoke about behind him. They were
laughing, and so forth, and he was just on the first landing, when they
nabbed him from behind--positive fact!--and threw the chap down on his
face! I'm thinking it's a poor kind of joke when the other two fellows
jolly well nobble _me_! Before I know what's up, I'm pushed into an
anteroom or somewhere, and I hear these chaps banging the front door and
running upstairs! I should have sung out like steam, only they'd
handcuffed me wrong way round and tied a beastly cork arrangement in my
mouth!
"Just before I burst a blood-vessel it occurred to me that I might as
well keep quiet; so I sat on the floor listening; but I didn't hear
anything for what seemed like an hour! Then there was a mob of fellows
came downstairs--and the door opened. They seemed to slip out in twos
and threes from what I could gather, and by the time they'd nearly all
gone a perfect pandemonium broke out, upstairs and down!
"The servants--who'd all been locked in the cellar--got out first. Then
Haredale came bounding downstairs, and, luckily for me, heard me kicking
at the door. Then everybody was rushing about! Rohscheimer was bawling
in the telephone! Some other chap was rushing for a doctor--for Adeler,
who got knocked on the head in the library. Now here's the wretched
police arresting everybody who looks as though he'd been in the Army!
That's all the beastly description anyone can give! They suspected Dick
Langley the minute they saw him, because he's got a military appearance!
And I shouldn't be surprised to hear that they'd arrested every fellow
in the Guards' Club!
"Here's the thing, though: they've all got clean away! With about forty
thousand pounds' worth of jewellery! It's a preposterous sort of thing,
isn't it?"
Sheard agreed that it was the most preposterous sort of thing
imaginable; and, leaving his excited acquaintance, he set out to seek
further particulars. But very few were forthcoming.
As to the manner in which the clique had obtained admission, that called
for little explanation. They had simply presented themselves, armed with
invitations, singly and in small parties, whilst dancing was in
progress, and in a house open to such mixed society had been admitted
without arousing suspicion. There was little that was obscure or
inexplicable in the coup; it was an amazing display of _force majeure_,
an act of stark audacity. It pointed to the existence in London of a
hitherto unsuspected genius. Such was Sheard's opinion.
From an American guest, who had kept perfectly cool during the
"hold-up," and had quietly taken stock of the robbers, he learnt that,
exclusive of the spokesman, they numbered exactly thirty; were much of a
similar build, being well-set-up men of military bearing; and, most
extraordinary circumstance, were facially all alike!
"Gee! but it's a fact!" declared his informant. "They all had moderate
fair hair, worn short and parted left-centre, neat blonde moustaches,
and fresh complexions, and the whole thirty were like as beans!"
Two other interesting facts Sheard elicited from Adeler, who wore a
white bandage about his damaged skull. The whole of the guests
victimised were compatriots of their host.
"It is from those who are of my nation that they have taken all their
booty," he said, smiling. "This daring robber has evidently strong
racial prejudices! Then, each of the victims had received, during the
past month threatening letters demanding money for various charities.
These letters did not emanate from the institutions named, but were
anonymous appeals. The point seems worth notice."
And so, armed with the usual police assurance that several sensational
arrests might be expected in the morning, Sheard departed with this
enthralling copy hot for the machines that had been stopped to take it.
When, thoroughly tired, he again quitted the _Gleaner_ office, it was to
direct his weary footsteps towards the Embankment and the all-night car
that should bear him home.
Crossing Tallis Street, he became aware of a confused murmur proceeding
from somewhere ahead, and as he approached nearer to the river this took
definite form and proclaimed itself a chaotic chorus of human voices.
As he came out on to the Embankment an extraordinary scene presented
itself.
Directly in his path stood a ragged object--a piece of social flotsam--a
unit of London's misery. This poor filthy fellow was singing at the top
of his voice, a music-hall song upon that fertile topic, "the girls,"
was dancing wildly around a dilapidated hat which stood upon the
pavement at his feet, and was throwing sovereigns into this same hat
from an apparently inexhaustible store in his coat pocket!
Seeing Sheard standing watching him, he changed his tune and burst into
an extempore lyric, "_The quids! The quids! The golden quids--the
quids!_" and so on, until, filled with a sudden hot suspicion, he
snatched up his hat, with its jingling contents, hugged it to his
breast, and ran like the wind!
Following him with his eyes as he made off towards Waterloo Bridge, the
bewildered pressman all but came to the conclusion that he was the
victim of a weird hallucination.
For the night was filled with the songs, the shouts, the curses, the
screams, of a ragged army of wretches who threw up gold in the air--who
juggled with gold--who played pitch-and-toss with gold--who ran with
great handfuls of gold clutched to their bosoms--who pursued one another
for gold--who fought to defend the gold they had gained--who wept for
the gold they had lost.
One poor old woman knelt at the kerb, counting bright sovereigns into
neat little piles, and perfectly indifferent to the advice of a kindly
policeman, who, though evidently half dazed with the wonders of the
night, urged her to get along to a safer place.
Two dilapidated tramps, one of whom wore a battered straw hat, whilst
his friend held an ancient green parasol over his bare head, appeared
arm-in-arm, displaying much elegance of deportment, and, hailing a
passing cab, gave the address, "Savoy," with great aplomb.
Fights were plentiful, and the available police were kept busy arresting
the combatants. Two officers passed Sheard, escorting a lean, ragged
individual whose pockets jingled as he walked, and who spoke of the
displeasure with which this unseemly arrest would fill "his people."
Presently a bewildered Salvation Army official appeared. Sheard promptly
buttonholed him.
"Don't ask me, sir!" he said, in response to the obvious question.
"Heaven only knows what it _is_ about! But I can tell you this much: no
less than forty thousand pounds has been given away on the Embankment
to-night! And in gold! Such an incredible example of ill-considered
generosity I've never heard of! More harm has been done to our work
to-night than we can hope to rectify in a twelvemonth!
"Of course, it will do good in a few, a very few, cases. But, on the
whole, it will do, I may say, incalculable harm. How was it distributed?
In little paper bags, like those used by the banks. It sent half the
poor fellows crazy! Just imagine--a broken-down wretch who'd lived on
the verge of starvation for, maybe, years, suddenly has a bag of
sovereigns put into his hand! Good heavens! what madness!"
"Who did the distributing?"
"That's the curious part of it! The bags were distributed by a number of
men wearing the dark overcoats and uniform caps of the Salvation Army!
That's how they managed to get through with the business without
arousing the curiosity of the police. I don't know how many of them
there were, but I should imagine twenty or thirty. They were through
with it and gone before we woke up to what they had done!"
Sheard thanked him for his information, stood a moment, irresolute; and
turned back once more to the _Gleaner_ office.
* * * * *
Thus, then, did a strange personality announce his coming and flood the
British press with adjectives.
The sensation created, on the following day, by the news of the Park
Lane robbery was no greater than that occasioned by the news of the
extraordinary Embankment affair.
"What do we deduce," demanded a talkative and obtrusively clever person
in a late City train, "from the circumstance that all thirty of the Park
Lane brigands were alike?"
"Obviously," replied a quiet voice, "that it was a 'make-up.' Thirty
identical wigs, thirty identical moustaches, and the same grease-paint!"
A singularly handsome man was the speaker. He was dark, masterful, and
had notably piercing eyes. The clever person became silent.
"Being all made up as a very common type of man-about-town," continued
this striking-looking stranger, "they would pass unnoticed anywhere. If
the police are looking for thirty blonde men of similar appearance they
are childishly wasting their time. They are wasting their time in any
event--as the future will show."
Everyone in the carriage was listening now, and a man in a corner asked:
"Do you think there is any connection between the Park Lane and
Embankment affairs, sir?"
"Think!" smiled the other, rising as the train slowed into Ludgate Hill.
"You evidently have not seen this."
He handed his questioner an early edition of an evening paper, and with
a terse "Good morning," left the carriage.
Glaringly displayed on the front page was the following:
WHO IS HE?
"We received early this morning the following advertisement,
prepaid in cash, and insert it here by reason of the great interest
which we feel sure it will possess for our readers:
"'On Behalf of the Poor Ones of the Embankment, I thank the
following philanthropists for their generous donations:"
_(Here followed a list of those guests of Mrs. Rohscheimer's who
had been victimised upon the previous night, headed with the name
of Julius Rohscheimer himself; and beside each name appeared an
amount representing the value of the article, or articles,
appropriated.)_
"'They may rest assured that not one halfpenny has been deducted
for working expenses. In fact, when the donations come to be
realised the Operative may be the loser. But no matter. "Expend
your money in pious uses, either voluntarily or by constraint."
"'(Signed) Séverac Bablon.'"
The paper was passed around in silence.
"That fellow seemed to know a lot about it!" said someone.
None of the men replied; but each looked at the other strangely--and
wondered.