“Cheer up,” I said consolingly. “Better luck next time.”
At the _Magnificent_, we were ushered at once into the manager’s
office. Gregory Rolf was there with two men from Scotland Yard. A
pale-faced clerk sat opposite them.
Rolf nodded to us as we entered.
“We’re getting to the bottom of it,” he said. “But it’s almost
unbelievable. How the guy had the nerve I can’t think.”
A very few minutes sufficed to give us the facts. Mr. Rolf had gone
out of the hotel at 11.15. At 11.30, a gentleman, so like him in
appearance as to pass muster, entered the hotel and demanded the
jewel-case from the safe deposit. He duly signed the receipt,
remarking carelessly as he did so: “Looks a bit different from my
ordinary one, but I hurt my hand getting out of the taxi.” The
clerk merely smiled and remarked that he saw very little difference.
Rolf laughed and said: “Well, don’t run me in as a crook this time,
anyway. I’ve been getting threatening letters from a Chinaman, and
the worst of it is I look rather like a Chink myself—it’s something
about the eyes.”
“I looked at him,” said the clerk who was telling us this, “and I
saw at once what he meant. The eyes slanted up at the corners like
an Oriental’s. I’d never noticed it before.”
“Darn it all, man,” roared Gregory Rolf, leaning forward, “do you
notice it now?”
The man looked up at him and started.
“No, sir,” he said. “I can’t say I do.” And indeed there was
nothing even remotely Oriental about the frank brown eyes that
looked into ours.
The Scotland Yard man grunted. “Bold customer. Thought the eyes
might be noticed, and took the bull by the horns to disarm
suspicion. He must have watched you out of the hotel, sir, and
nipped in as soon as you were well away.”
“What about the jewel-case?” I asked.
“It was found in a corridor of the hotel. Only one thing had been
taken—‘the Western Star.’”
We stared at each other—the whole thing was so bizarre, so unreal.
Poirot hopped briskly to his feet. “I have not been of much use,
I fear,” he said regretfully. “Is it permitted to see Madame?”
“I guess she’s prostrated with the shock,” explained Rolf.
“Then perhaps I might have a few words alone with you, monsieur?”
“Certainly.”
In about five minutes Poirot reappeared.
“Now, my friend,” he said gaily. “To a post office. I have to send
a telegram.”
“Who to?”
“Lord Yardly.” He discounted further inquiries by slipping his arm
through mine. “Come, come, _mon ami_. I know all that you feel
about this miserable business. I have not distinguished myself!
You, in my place, might have distinguished yourself! _Bien!_ All
is admitted. Let us forget it and have lunch.”
It was about four o’clock when we entered Poirot’s rooms. A figure
rose from a chair by the window. It was Lord Yardly. He looked
haggard and distraught.
“I got your wire and came up at once. Look here, I’ve been round
to Hoffberg, and they know nothing about that man of theirs last
night, or the wire either. Do you think that——”
Poirot held up his hand.
“My excuses! I sent that wire, and hired the gentleman in question.”
“_You_—but why? What?” The nobleman spluttered impotently.
“My little idea was to bring things to a head,” explained Poirot
placidly.
“Bring things to a head! Oh, my God!” cried Lord Yardly.
“And the ruse succeeded,” said Poirot cheerfully. “Therefore,
_milord_, I have much pleasure in returning you—this!” With a
dramatic gesture he produced a glittering object. It was a great
diamond.
“The Star of the East,” gasped Lord Yardly. “But I don’t
understand——”
“No?” said Poirot. “It makes no matter. Believe me, it was necessary
for the diamond to be stolen. I promised you that it should be
preserved to you, and I have kept my word. You must permit me to
keep my little secret. Convey, I beg of you, the assurances of my
deepest respect to Lady Yardly, and tell her how pleased I am to
be able to restore her jewel to her. What _beau temps_, is it not?
Good day, _milord_.”
And smiling and talking, the amazing little man conducted the
bewildered nobleman to the door. He returned gently rubbing his
hands.
“Poirot,” I said. “Am I quite demented?”
“No, _mon ami_, but you are, as always, in a mental fog.”
“How did you get the diamond.”
“From Mr. Rolf.”
“Rolf?”
“_Mais oui!_ The warning letters, the Chinaman, the article in
_Society Gossip_, all sprang from the ingenious brain of Mr. Rolf!
The two diamonds, supposed to be so miraculously alike—bah! they
did not exist. There was only _one_ diamond, my friend! Originally
in the Yardly collection, for three years it has been in the
possession of Mr. Rolf. He stole it this morning with the assistance
of a touch of grease paint at the corner of each eye! Ah, I must
see him on the film, he is indeed an artist, _celui-là_!
“But why should he steal his own diamond?” I asked, puzzled.
“For many reasons. To begin with, Lady Yardly was getting restive.”
“Lady Yardly?”
“You comprehend she was left much alone in California. Her husband
was amusing himself elsewhere. Mr. Rolf was handsome, he had an
air about him of romance. But _au fond_, he is very business-like,
_ce monsieur_! He made love to Lady Yardly, and then he blackmailed
her. I taxed the lady with the truth the other night, and she
admitted it. She swore that she had only been indiscreet, and I
believe her. But, undoubtedly, Rolf had letters of hers that could
be twisted to bear a different interpretation. Terrified by the
threat of a divorce, and the prospect of being separated from her
children, she agreed to all he wished. She had no money of her own,
and she was forced to permit him to substitute a paste replica for
the real stone. The coincidence of the date of the appearance of
‘the Western Star’ struck me at once. All goes well. Lord Yardly
prepares to range himself—to settle down. And then comes the menace
of the possible sale of the diamond. The substitution will be
discovered. Without doubt she writes off frantically to Gregory
Rolf who has just arrived in England. He soothes her by promising
to arrange all—and prepares for a double robbery. In this way he
will quiet the lady, who might conceivably tell all to her husband,
an affair which would not suit our blackmailer at all, he will have
£50,000 insurance money (aha, you had forgotten that!), and he will
still have the diamond! At this point I put my finger in the pie.
The arrival of a diamond expert is announced. Lady Yardly, as I
felt sure she would, immediately arranges a robbery—and does it
very well too! But Hercule Poirot, he sees nothing but facts. What
happens in actuality? The lady switches off the light, bangs the
door, throws the necklace down the passage, and screams. She has
already wrenched out the diamond with pliers upstairs——”
“But we saw the necklace round her neck!” I objected.
“I demand pardon, my friend. Her hand concealed the part of it
where the gap would have shown. To place a piece of silk in the
door beforehand is child’s play! Of course, as soon as Rolf read
of the robbery, he arranged his own little comedy. And very well
he played it!”
“What did you say to him?” I asked with lively curiosity.
“I said to him that Lady Yardly had told her husband all, that I
was empowered to recover the jewel, and that if it were not
immediately handed over proceedings would be taken. Also a few more
little lies which occurred to me. He was as wax in my hands!”