It would be a truism to declare that human nature is about as
complicated a piece of machinery as could be found in the human world.
And yet I do not know why it should be considered so. All things and all
men do not run in grooves. A man to be a criminal need not be hopelessly
bad in every other sense. I have met murderers who did not possess
sufficient nerve to kill a rabbit, burglars who would rob a poor man of
all his possessions in the world, and yet would not despoil a little
child of a halfpenny. The fact of the matter is we all have our better
points, our own innate knowledge of good and evil. Hayle had betrayed
Kitwater and Codd in the cruellest fashion possible, and by so doing had
condemned them to the most fiendish torture the mind of man could
conceive. Yet it was through his one good point, his weakness, if I
might so describe it, that I was enabled to come to my first grip
with him.
It was between the hours of two and three that I entered the gates of
Brompton Cemetery and commenced my examination of the various graves
therein contained. Up one path I wandered and down another in search of
the resting-place of the poor crippled sister of whom Gideon Hayle had
been so fond. It was a long time before I found it, but at last I was
successful. To my astonishment the stone was plainly a new one, and the
grave was tastefully decorated with flowers. As a matter of fact it was
one of the prettiest in its neighbourhood, and to me this told its own
tale. I went in search of the necessary official and put the case to
him. He informed me that I was correct in my supposition, and that the
stone had only lately been erected, and, what was more to the point, he
informed me that the gentleman who had given the order for it, had only
the week before paid the necessary sum for insuring the decoration of
the grave for many years to come.
"I gather from your words, that the gentleman, who must be a relative of
the deceased, has been here lately," I said.
"He was here last Sunday afternoon," the man replied. "He is a most
kindly and generous gentleman, and must have been very fond of his
sister. The way he stood and looked at that stone the last time he was
here was touching to see. He'd been in foreign parts, sir, and is likely
to go out there again, so I gathered from what he said. It is a pity
there are not more like him."
This was news, indeed, and I pricked up my ears on hearing it.
Having learnt all I was likely to discover, I thanked the man for his
kindness and left the cemetery. If I had done nothing else, I had at
least satisfied myself upon one point, and this was the fact that
Gideon Hayle had been in London within the week. Under such
circumstances it should not be very difficult to obtain his address. But
I knew from experience that when things seemed to be running most
smoothly, they are as much liable to a breakdown as at any other
time--sometimes even more so. I accordingly hailed a cab and drove back
to my office. Once there I entered up my diary according to custom,
wrote a note to Kitwater, informing him that I had discovered that
Gideon Hayle had not left London on the previous Sunday, and also that I
believed him to have negotiated certain of the stones in London, after
which I returned to my hotel to dine.
Most people who know me would tell you that it might be considered
consistent with my character that I still occupied the same apartments
in the private hotel, off the Strand, in which I had domiciled myself
when I first arrived in England. If I am made comfortable I prefer to
stick to my quarters, and the hotel in question was a quiet one; the
cooking and the service were excellent, and, as every one did his, or
her, best for me, I saw no sort of reason for moving elsewhere. It is
something in such matters to know the people with whom one has to deal,
and in my case I could not have been better cared for had I been a
crowned head. I suppose I am a bit of a faddist in these things. Except
when business compels me to break through my rule, I rise at the same
hour every morning, breakfast, lunch, and dine at the same time, and as
far as possible retire to rest punctually at the usual moment. After
dinner in those days, things have changed since then somewhat. I
invariably smoked a cigar, and when the evening was fine, went for a
stroll, returning between nine and ten and retiring to rest, unless I
had anything to attend to, punctually at eleven. On this particular
occasion, the night being fine, though rather close, I lit my cigar in
the hall and stepped out into the street exactly as the clock was
striking eight. I had a lot to think of, and felt just in the humour for
a walk. London at all hours is a fascinating study to me, and however
much I see of her, I never tire of watching her moods. After I left my
hotel I strolled along the Embankment so far as the Houses of
Parliament, passed the Abbey, made my way down Victoria Street, and then
by way of Grosvenor Place to Hyde Park Corner. Opposite Apsley House I
paused to look about me. I had my reasons for so doing, for ever since I
had left the river-side, I had entertained the notion that I was being
followed. When I had crossed the road at the Houses of Parliament, two
men, apparently of the loafer class, had crossed too. They had followed
me up Victoria Street, and now, as I stood outside the Duke of
Wellington's residence, I could see them moving about on the other side
of the way. What their intentions were I could not say, but that their
object was to spy upon my movements, I was quite convinced. In order to
assure myself of this fact I resolved to lay a little trap for them.
Passing down Piccadilly at a sharp pace, I turned into Berkeley Street,
some twenty yards or so ahead of them. Crossing the road I sheltered
myself in a doorway and waited. I had not been there very long, before I
observed that they had turned the corner and were coming along in hot
pursuit. That they did not notice me in my hiding-place is evident from
the fact that they passed on the other side of the street, and doubtless
thinking that they had missed me, commenced to run. I thereupon quitted
my friendly doorway, returned to Piccadilly, hailed a cab, and drove
back to my hotel. As I went I turned the matter over in my mind. With
the exception of the present case I had nothing important on hand, so
that I could think of no one who would be likely to set a watch upon me.
That I did not suspect Hayle would only be natural under the
circumstances, as I did not know then that he had been the witness of
Kitwater and Codd's visit to my office that afternoon, and I felt
convinced in my own mind that he was unaware that they were in England.
It was most natural, therefore, that I should not in any way associate
him with the plot.
The following day was spent for the greater part in making further
inquiries in Hatton Garden, and among the various Dutch merchants then
in London. The story the senior partner of Messrs. Jacob and Bulenthall
had told me had proved to be correct, and there could be no sort of
doubt that Hayle had realized a very large sum of money by the
transaction. What was more, I discovered that he had been seen in London
within the previous twenty-four hours. This was a most important point,
and it encouraged me to persevere in my search. One thing, however, was
remarkable. One or two of the merchants to whom Hayle had disposed of
his stones, had seen more of him than Messrs. Jacob and Bulenthall. Two
had dined with him at a certain popular restaurant in Regent Street, and
had visited a theatre with him afterwards. In neither case, however, had
they discovered his name or where he lived. This secret he guarded most
religiously, and the fact that he did so, afforded additional food for
reflection. If he imagined his old companions to be dead, why should he
be so anxious that his own identity, and his place of residence, should
remain a secret? If they were safely out of the way, no one could
possibly know of his connection with them, and in that case he might, if
he pleased, purchase a mansion in Park Lane and flourish his wealth
before the eyes of the world, for any harm it might do him. Yet here he
was, exciting mistrust by his secrecy, and leading a hole-and-corner
sort of life when, as I have said, there was not the slightest necessity
for it. Little by little I was beginning to derive the impression that
the first notion of Mr. Hayle was an erroneous one, and that there was
more in him than I supposed. This sentiment was destined to be
strengthened and in the very near future, by two remarkable discoveries.
That evening I again went for a walk. Feeling fairly confident, however,
that the men who had followed me before would do so again, I took
certain precautions before I set out. One of my subordinates, a man
remarkable for his strength, was ordered to be at the corner of my
street at half-past eight. He was to wait there until I emerged from my
hotel, himself remaining as far as possible out of sight. On this
occasion I had planned my route deliberately. I made my way in the first
place along the Strand as far as Trafalgar Square, down Cockspur Street
by way of the Haymarket to Regent Street, then on by Langham Place to
that vast network of streets that lies between Oxford Street and the
Euston Road.
I had some time before this found out that I was being followed again.
The two men who had dodged my steps on the previous night were doing so
again, though the reason for their action was no more apparent. However,
I had laid my plans most carefully, and hoped, if all went well, to be
able to satisfy myself upon this point. I had plenty of enemies, I knew,
as a man of my profession must of necessity have, but I could not think
of one who would pry upon my movements like this. At last the time came
for action. Turning into a side street, I slackened my pace in order to
give my pursuers time to come up. Apart from ourselves the street was
quite deserted, and, if they intended doing me harm, was quite dark
enough to favour their plans. I could see as well as hear them
approaching. Then, when they were close upon me, I slipped my hand into
my coat-pocket, and turned and confronted them. My own man was softly
coming up from behind.
"Now, my men," I began, "what's the meaning of this? No, you can keep
your distance. It's no use thinking of violence, for I've got you before
and behind. Take care that they don't get away, Wilson!"
"Aye, aye, sir," the man replied. "I'll take good care of that."
"Let's 'out him,' Bill," said the taller of the two men, and as he did
so took a step towards me.
[Illustration: "'LET'S OUT HIM, BILL,' SAID THE TALLER OF THE TWO MEN"]
"Do you see this?" I inquired, producing my revolver as I spoke. "I am
aware that it is not lawful to carry firearms in the streets of London,
but when one has to deal with gentlemen like you, it becomes a
necessity. Throw up your hands."
They did as they were ordered without demur. Then turning to the taller
man I addressed him more particularly.
"You seem to be the leader," I said, "and for that reason I want to have
a little talk with you. Your companion can take himself off as soon as
he pleases. If he does not, let me assure him that he will get into
trouble. Your intention to 'out me,' as you call it, has failed, as you
can see, and when I have done with you I don't think the attempt will be
repeated. Now get off, my man, and thank your stars that I have let you
go so easily."
Never were the tables turned so quickly or so completely on a pair of
rogues, and the man I addressed seemed to think too. After a whispered
conversation with his companion, he walked away at his best pace, and we
saw no more of him.
"Now," I said, turning to the fellow who was left behind, "you will come
along with me to my office, and we'll have a little talk together."
Our prisoner would have resisted, but certain warnings I was able to
give him, induced him to change his mind. When we reached my office I
opened the door and conducted him to my sanctum, while Wilson followed
close behind and lit the gas. He then passed into the outer office,
leaving me alone with my prisoner. On closer inspection he proved to be
a burly ruffian, and would doubtless have proved an ugly customer to
tackle alone. He, in his turn, looked at me in some interest and then at
the door, as if he were half inclined to try the effect of a struggle.
"First and foremost, do you know where you are and who I am?" I asked
him.
"No," he said, "I can't say as ever I set my eyes on yer afore last
night, and I don't know yer bloomin' name or what yer are and I
don't want to."
"Politeness is evidently not your strong point," I commented. "Just look
at that!"
Taking a sheet of note-paper from the rack upon my table I handed it to
him.
He did so, and I saw a look of surprise steal over his face. He looked
from it to me and then back again at the paper.
"Fairfax," he said. "The d---- Tec, the same as got poor old Billy
Whitelaw scragged last year."
"I certainly believe I had that honour," I returned, "and it's just
possible, if you continue in your present career, that I may have the
pleasure of doing the same for you. Now, look here, my man, there's some
one else at the back of this business, and what I want to know is, who
put you up to try your hand upon me? Tell me that, and I will let you go
and say no more about it. Refuse, and I must try and find some evidence
against you that will rid society of you for some time to come.
Doubtless it will not be very difficult."
He considered a moment before he replied.
"Well," he said, "I don't know as how I won't tell you, a seein' you're
who yer are, and I am not likely to get anything out of the job. It was
a rare toff who put us on to it. Silk hat, frock-coat, and all as natty
as a new pin. He comes across us down in the Dials, stood us a couple of
drinks, turfed out a suvring apiece, and then told us he wanted the
gentleman at Rickford's Hotel laid by for a time. He told us 'ow yer
were in the habit of going about the streets at night for walks, and
said as 'ow he would be down near the hotel that evenin' and when yer
came out, he would strike a match and light a smoke just ter give us the
tip like. We wos to foller yer, and to do the job wherever we could.
Then we was to bring your timepiece to him at the back of St. Martin's
Church in the Strand at midnight, and he would pay us our money and let
us keep the clock for our trouble. Oh, yes, 'e's a deep un, jost take my
tip for it. He knowed that unless we 'outed' yer properly, we'd not be
able to get at your fob, and then 'e'd not have paid out."
"I see, and not being successful on your first attempt, you followed me
again to-night, of course by his instructions as before?"
"That's so, guvner," the man replied, "but I reckon we ain't agoin' to
see any money this trip. If I'd ha' knowed who you was, I wouldn't a
taken this job in hand, not for no money."
"That is where so many of you go wrong," I said. "You fail to make
sufficient inquiries before you commence business. And I understand you
to say that the gentleman who put you up to it, is to be at the back of
St. Martin's church to-night?"
"Yes, sir, that's so," said the fellow. "He'll be there all right."
"In that case I think I'll be there to meet him," I continued. "It's a
pity he should not see some one, and I suppose you will not keep your
appointment?"
"Not if I knows it," the man answered. Then he added regretfully, "A
regular toff--he was--free with his rhino as could be, and dressed up to
the nines. He chucked his 'arf soverings about as if they were dirt,
he did."
"It is sad to think that through your folly, no more of them will find
themselves into your pocket," I said. "You should have done the trick
last night, and you would now be in the full enjoyment of your wealth.
As it is you have had all your trouble for nothing. Now, that's all I
want to say to you, so you can go and join your amiable companions as
soon as you like. Just one word of advice, however, before you depart.
Don't go near St. Martin's church to-night, and, when you want to kick
another unoffending citizen to death, be sure of your man before you
commence operations."
As I said this I rang the bell and told Wilson to show him out, which he
did.
"Now," I said to myself after he had gone, "this looks like developing
into an affair after my own heart. I am most anxious to discover who my
mysterious enemy can be. It might be Grobellar, but I fancy he is still
in Berlin. There's Tremasty, but I don't think he would dare venture to
England. No, when I come to think of it, this business does not seem to
belong to either of them."
I took from my pocket the watch which was to have played such an
important part in the drama and consulted it. It was just half-past
eleven, therefore I had exactly half-an-hour to get to the _rendezvous_.
I called Wilson and congratulated him on the success which had attended
our efforts of that evening.
"It's a good thing you came out of it so well, sir," he said. "They were
a nasty pair of chaps, and would have thought as much of 'outing' you as
they would of drinking a pot of ale."
"But thank goodness, they didn't succeed," I replied. "As the saying
goes, 'a miss has never killed a man yet.' And now, Wilson, you'd better
be off home to bed. Turn out the gas before you go. Good-night!"
"Good-night, sir," he answered, and then I put on my hat and left the
office.
I found when I stepped into the street that the character of the night
had changed. Thick clouds obscured the sky, and a few drops of rain were
falling. At first I felt inclined to take a cab, but on second thoughts
I changed my mind, and putting up my umbrella strode along in the
direction of St. Martin's church.
The theatres were over by this time, and the streets were beginning to
grow empty. I passed the Gaiety where a middle-aged gentleman, decidedly
intoxicated, was engaged in a noisy altercation with a policeman, who
was threatening to take him to Bow Street if he did not go quietly home,
and at last approached the spot for which I was making. I took up my
position on the darker side of Holywell Street, and waited. So far I
seemed to have the thoroughfare to myself, but I had still some three or
four minutes to wait.
At last midnight sounded, and as I heard it I concealed myself more
carefully in my doorway and watched. I was not to be kept long in
suspense, for the new day was scarcely three minutes old, when a hansom
drove up to the other side of the church, and a man alighted. He paid
off the man and wished him good-night, and then came along the roadway
at the back of the church. From where I stood I could see his figure
distinctly, but was not able to distinguish his face. He was dressed in
a black cloak, and wore a deer-stalker hat upon his head. That he was
the man I wanted I felt sure, for what would any one else be doing there
at such an hour? That he was surprised at not finding his bravoes
awaiting him was very certain, for he looked up the street, down the
street, peered into Holywell Street, where, thank goodness, he did not
see me, then along the Strand in a westerly direction, and afterwards
came and took up his position within half-a-dozen paces of where I was
hidden. Presently he took a cigar-case from his pocket, opened it,
selected a weed, and struck a match to light it. The flame illumined his
face so that I could see it distinctly. If I had not had myself well
under control, I believe I should have uttered an exclamation of
surprise that could not have failed to attract attention. _The man who
had set those rascals on to try and get rid of me, was none other than
Mr. Edward Bayley, the Managing Director of the Santa Cruz Mining
Company of the Argentine Republic!_
Here was a surprise indeed! What on earth did it all mean?