A MYSTIC HAND
"It amounts," said J. J. Oppner, the lord of Wall Street, "to a panic.
No man of money is safe. I ain't boilin' over with confidence in
Scotland Yard, and I've got some Agency boys here in London with me."
"A panic, eh?" grunted Baron Hague, Teutonically. "So you vear this
Bablon, eh?"
"A bit we do," drawled Oppner, "and then some. After that a whole lot,
and we're well scared. He held me up at my Canadian mills for a pile;
but I've got wise to him, and if he crowds me again he's a full-blown
genius."
Mrs. Rohscheimer's dinner party murmured sympathetically.
"Of course you have heard, Baron," said the hostess, "that in his
outrage here--here, in Park Lane!--he was assisted by no fewer than
thirty accomplices?"
"Dirty aggomblices, eh? Dirty?"
"Dirty's the word!" growled Mr. Oppner.
"The wonder is," said Sir Richard Haredale, "that a rogue with so many
assistants has not been betrayed."
To those present at the Rohscheimer board this subject, indeed, was one
of quite extraordinary interest, in view of the fact that it was only a
few days since the affair of the dramatic ball. Sixteen diners there
were, and in order to appreciate the electric atmosphere which prevailed
in the airy salon, let us survey the board. Reading from left to right,
as in the case of society wedding groups, the diners were:
Mrs. Julius Rohscheimer.[1]
Baron Hague.[1]
Miss Zoe Oppner.[1]
Sir Richard Haredale.
Mrs. Maurice Hohsmann.[1]
Mr. J. J. Oppner.[1]
Mrs. Wellington Lacey.
Mr. Sheard (Press).
Miss Salome Hohsmann.[1]
Sir Leopold Jesson.[1]
Lady Vignoles.[1]
Mr. Julius Rohscheimer.[1]
Lady Mary Evershed.
Lord Vignoles.
Miss Charlotte Hohsmann.[1]
Mr. Antony Elschild.[1]
[Footnote 1: Representatives of capital.]
"I understand that the man holds private keys to the British Museum!"
cried Mrs. Hohsmann.
"Nobody would be surprised to hear," came the thick voice of Julius
Rohscheimer, "that he'd got a private subway between his bedroom and the
Bank of England!"
Extravagant though this may appear, it would not indeed, at this time,
have surprised the world at large to learn _anything_--however amazing
in an ordinary man--respecting Séverac Bablon. The real facts of his
most recent exploit were known only to a select few; but it was
universal property how, at about half-past eleven one morning shortly
after the theft from the British Museum, and whilst all London, together
with a great part of the Empire, was discussing the incredibly
mysterious robbery, a cab drove up to the main entrance of that
institution, containing a District Messenger and a large box.
The box was consigned to the trustees of the Museum, and the boy, being
questioned, described the consigner as "a very old gentleman, with long,
white hair."
It contained, carefully and scientifically packed, the Hamilton Vase and
the Head of Cæsar!
Furthermore, it contained the following note:
"GENTLEMEN,--
"I beg to return, per messenger, the Head of Cæsar and the Hamilton
Vase. My reason for taking the liberty of borrowing them was that I
desired to convince a wealthy friend that a rare curio is a
powerful instrument for good, and that to allow of great wealth
lying idle when thousands sicken and die in poverty is a misuse of
a power conferred by Heaven.
"I trust that you will forgive my having unavoidably occasioned you
so much anxiety.
"SÉVERAC BABLON."
The contents of the note were made public with the appearance of the
3.30 editions; nor was there a news-sheet of them all that failed to
reprint, from the _Gleaner_, a paragraph announcing that Sir Leopold
Jesson had made the magnificent donation of £10,000 to the Sladen
Hospital. But the link that bound these items together was invisible to
the eyes of the world. Two persons at Rohscheimer's table, however, were
aware of all the facts; and although Sheard often glanced at Jesson, he
studiously avoided meeting his eyes.
Séverac Bablon's activities had not failed to react upon the temperature
of the Stock Exchange. Loudly it was whispered that influential and
highly-placed persons were concerned with him. No capitalist felt safe.
No man trusted his staff, his solicitor, his broker. It was felt that
minions of Séverac Bablon were everywhere; that Séverac Bablon was
omnipresent.
"You've gone pretty deep into the case, Sheard," said Rohscheimer. "What
do you know about these cards he sends to people he's goin' to rob?"
Sheard cleared his throat somewhat nervously. All eyes sought him.
"The authorities have established the fact," he replied, "that all those
whom Séverac Bablon has victimised have received--due warning."
Sir Leopold Jesson was watching him covertly.
"What do you mean by 'due warning'?" he snapped.
"They have been requested, anonymously," Sheard explained, "to subscribe
to some worthy object. When they have failed voluntarily to comply they
have been _compelled_, forcibly, to do so!"
Julius Rohscheimer began to turn purple. He spluttered furiously, ere
gaining command of speech.
"Is this a free country?" came in a hoarse roar. "If a man ain't out
buildin' hospitals for beggars does he have to be held up----"
He caught Mrs. Rohscheimer's glance, laden with entreaty.
"Good Lord!" he concluded, weakly. "Isn't it funny!"
Baron Hague was understood to growl that he should no longer feel safe
until back to Berlin he had gone.
"I am told," said Mr. Antony Elschild, "that a new Séverac Bablon
outrage is anticipated by the authorities."
That loosed the flood-gates. A dozen voices were asking at once: "Have
_you_ received a card?"
It seemed that this was a matter which had lain at the back of each
mind; that each had feared to broach; that each, now, was glad to
discuss. An extraordinary and ominous circumstance, then, was now
brought to light.
A note had been received by each of the capitalists present, stating
that £1,000,000 was urgently needed by the British Government for the
establishment of an aerial fleet. That was all. But the notes all bore a
certain seal.
"How many of us"--Julius Rohscheimer's coarse voice rose above them
all--"have got these notes?"
A moment's silence, wherein it became evident that five of the gentlemen
present had received such communications. Mrs. Hohsmann stated that her
husband had been the recipient of a note also.
"With Hohsmann," resumed Rohscheimer, "six of us."
"It appears to me," the soft voice was Antony Elschild's, "that no time
should be lost in ascertaining how many of these notes have been
sent----"
"Why?" asked Rohscheimer.
"Because, from what we know of Séverac Bablon, it is evident that he
intends to raise this sum, or a great part of it, for this highly
patriotic purpose, amongst our particular set. One is naturally anxious
to learn the amount of one's share in the responsibility!"
Baron Hague inquired, in stentorian but complicated English, whether
_he_ was to be expected to contribute towards the establishment of a
British aerial fleet.
"You have British interests, Baron!" said Sheard, smiling.
"What about me?" said Mr. Oppner.
Replied his beautiful daughter, laughing:
"You've got Canadian interests, Pa!"
So the impending outrage--for all present felt that these notes presaged
an outrage--was treated lightly enough, and the question, serious though
it was felt to be, might well have given place to topics less exciting,
when a buzz of conversation arose at the lower end of the table.
"Exactly the same," came Miss Salome Hohsmann's voice, "as the one
father received!"
She was observed to be passing something to her neighbour--Mr. Sheard.
He examined it curiously, and passed it on to Mrs. Lacey. Thus, from
hand to hand it performed a circuit of the table and came to Julius
Rohscheimer.
"That's one of 'em!" He threw it down upon the cloth--a small, square
correspondence card. It bore the words:
"£1,000,000 is required by His Majesty's Government, immediately,
in order to found an aerial service commensurate with Great
Britain's urgent requirements. A fund for the purpose (under the
patronage of the Marquess of Evershed and the Lord Mayor) has been
opened by the _Gleaner_."
At the foot was a seal, designed in the form of two triangles crossed.
"Whose is this?" continued Rohscheimer, and turned the card over.
He read what was neatly type-written upon the other side, and his gross,
empurpled face was seen to change, to assume a patchy greyness.
The superscription was:
"To Baron Hague, Sir Leopold Jesson, Messrs. Julius Rohscheimer,
John Jacob Oppner, and Antony Elschild.
_"Second Notice"_
He clutched the arms of his chair, and stood up. A dead silence had
fallen.
"Where"--Rohscheimer moistened his lips--"did this come from?"
A moment more of silence, then:
"Sir Leopold passed it to me," came Salome Hohsmann's frightened voice.
Rohscheimer stared at Jesson. Jesson turned and stared at Miss Hohsmann.
"You are mistaken," he replied slowly. "I have not had the card in my
hand!"
Miss Hohsmann's fine, dark eyes grew round in wonder.
"But, Sir Leopold!" she cried. "I _took_ it from your hand!"
Jesson's face was a study in perplexity.
"I can only say," contributed Sheard, who sat upon the other side of the
girl, "that I saw Miss Hohsmann looking at the card and I asked to be
allowed to examine it. I then passed it on to Mrs. Lacey. I may
add"--smiling--"that it does not emanate from the _Gleaner_ office, and
is in no way official!"
"Mrs. Lacey passed it along to me," came Oppner's parched voice.
"But," Sir Leopold's incisive tones cut in upon the bewildering
conversation, "Miss Hohsmann is in error in supposing that she received
the card from me. I have not handled it--neither, I believe, has Lady
Vignoles?" He turned to the latter.
She shook her head.
"No, sir," she said transatlantically, "I saw Mr. Rohscheimer take it
from Mary" (Lady Mary Evershed).
"I mean to say, Sheila"--Lord Vignoles leant forward in his chair and
looked along to his wife--"I mean to say, _I_ had it from Miss Charlotte
Hohsmann, on my left."
Rohscheimer's protruding eyes looked from face to face. Wonder was
written upon every one.
"Where the----" Mrs. Rohscheimer coughed.
The great financier sat down. Let us conclude his sentence for him:
_Where had the ominous "second notice" come from?_
Amid a thrilling silence, the guests sought, each in his or her own
fashion, for the solution to this truly amazing conundrum. The order may
be seen from a glance at the foregoing list of guests. It has only to be
remembered that they were seated around a large oval table and their
relative positions become apparent.
"It appears to me," said Sir Leopold Jesson, "that the mystery has its
root here. Miss Hohsmann is under the impression that I handed the card
to her. I did not do so. Miss Hohsmann, as well as myself, has been
victimised by this common enemy, so that"--he smiled dryly--"we cannot
suspect her, and you cannot suspect me, of complicity. Was there any
servant in the room at the time?"
A brief inquiry served to show that there had been no servant on that
side of the room at the time.
"Did you pick it up from the table, dear," cried Mrs. Hohsmann, "or
actually take it from--someone's hand?"
Amid a tense silence the girl replied:
"From--someone's hand!"