It was a full minute later and in all that minute's length no one
had spoken, no one had made a single sound.
The shock, the shame, of such a confession, telling, as it did, why
he had attempted to destroy himself, had crumpled the man up, taken
all the vitality out of him. He faced round and leaned his bent arm
against the wall of the stable, hid his face in the crook of it, and
Cleek, pitying him, let him have that minute all to himself. Then:
"Come," he said, very gently, going over to him and patting him on
the shoulder. "Buck up! Buck up! There's nothing in all the world
so deceptive as appearances, Sir Mawson; perhaps, when I've heard
the facts----Well, haven't I told you that I am out for a pair of
expert jewel thieves, and that that necklace is just the sort of
thing they'd be likely to make play for? How do you know, then, that
they didn't?"
"I wish I could believe that, I wish I could even hope it," he gave
back miserably. "But you don't know the facts, Mr. Cleek."
"To be sure I don't; and they're what I'm after. Let's have them,
please. To begin with, how came the Ladder of Light to be in your
possession at all?"
"It was brought to me yesterday--for repairing--by the Ranee's own
_major domo_. Not a mere _cice_, Mr. Cleek, but the most trusted of
all her henchmen. Three of the narrow gold links which hold the
stones together had worn thin and needed strengthening. It was four
o'clock in the afternoon when he arrived, and the Ranee, he said, had
selected our house for the work on the recommendation of royalty.
There was several hours' work on the thing--I saw that the instant I
examined it. But I was appalled by the fearful responsibility of
having a jewel of such fabulous value on the premises--with people
constantly coming in and going out--and determined, therefore, to
take it home and do the repairs myself. I informed the Ranee's
_major domo_ of that resolution, and demanded of him a guard of the
Ranee's own attendants to accompany me on the journey and to keep
watch over my house until he should come in person to receive the
necklace to-day.
"He accorded me this willingly; departed--still retaining
possession of the jewel, for I would not have it left with me at
any cost--returned with the guard an hour later, handed me the case
containing the necklace, and I left for home a few minutes after
five--and the Hindu guard with me. On arriving----"
"One moment, please," interposed Cleek. "Did you examine the case to
see if the Ladder of Light was still there before you started?"
"Yes, Mr. Cleek. I have no very great faith in Hindus at any time, so
you may be sure I took that precaution the instant the man placed
the case in my hands. The necklace was there. I even went further.
Before leaving my place of business I submitted the stones to
chemical test to be sure that no substitution had been made. They
were absolutely genuine; so that there can be no shadow of doubt
that it was the Ladder of Light itself I carried home with me. On
arriving at my residence I stationed the two Hindu guards at the
front gate, entered the house, and was upon the point of going
immediately to my study to subject the stones to yet another chemical
test--to make sure that no trickery had been practised upon me by the
Hindus on the journey--when I was unexpectedly pounced upon in the
main hallway by my son, Henry, who was in a greatly excited state
and attempted to renew the subject of our unpleasant interview
of the day before."
Here Sir Mawson's voice grew curiously thick and unsteady. He paused
a moment as if ashamed to go on, then stiffened himself and continued.
"Mr. Cleek," he said, agitatedly, "it is necessary that I should tell
you, at this point, something with regard to those who make up the
members of my household."
"You needn't. I have already heard. Lady Leake is, I believe, your
second wife, and you have two sons."
"No--three," he corrected. "Henry, my eldest, who is twenty-four and
is the only survivor of the children of my first and most unhappy
marriage; Curzon, who is just entering his twenty-first year, and
Bevis, who has not yet turned seven, and is, of course, still in
the nursery. I may as well admit to you, Mr. Cleek, that my first
marriage was a failure; that it was none of my own choosing, but was
consummated in deference to the will and wishes of my parents. We
were utterly unsuited to each other, my first wife and I, and it is,
no doubt, only natural that the son she left me when death delivered
us both from an irksome bondage should reflect in himself some
of those points of difference which made our union a mistake.
"Don't misunderstand me, however. He is very dear to me--dear, too,
to his stepmother, who loves him as her own, and the one strong
feature in his character is the love he gives her in return. Then,
too, he is my first born, my heir, and no man fails to love that
first child that ever called him father."
"No man could fail to love this particular one at all events, Mr.
Cleek," put in her ladyship. "Wild, reckless, extravagant--yes! But
at heart, the dearest boy!"
"Just so!" interposed Cleek. "But let us get on, please. So this
'dearest boy' had an unpleasant interview with you the day before
yesterday, did he, Sir Mawson? What was it about?"
"The usual thing--money. He is extravagant to the point of insanity.
I've paid his debts until my patience is quite worn out, hoping
against hope that he will reform. At that interview, however, he
asked for a thing I would _not_ listen to--L200 to settle a
gambling debt at his club: to take up an I. O. U. that would get
him blacklisted as a defaulter if it were not met. 'Then get
blacklisted!' I said to him, 'if there's no other way to cut you off
from the worthless lot you associate yourself with. You'll not
get one farthing from me to settle any such disgraceful thing as a
gambling debt, rest assured of that!' Then I walked out of the
room and left him, and that was the last I saw of him until he
pounced upon me in the hall yesterday when I was going to my
study with the case containing the Ranee's necklace.
"That was the subject he wanted to renew. He'd been to town, he
said, and had had a talk with the man to whom he had given the
I. O. U., 'and dad, if you'll only do it just this once--just this
one last _once_!' he was saying when I interrupted him. 'I've no
time to listen now, and no inclination. I've important business to
attend to,' I said, then waved him aside and went into the study and
locked the door while I attended to the matter of applying the acid
test to the diamonds for the second time.
"Meanwhile, he had gone up to Lady Leake's boudoir to implore her to
use her influence with me, and he was still there when, after the
stones had again answered to the acid test, I carried the necklace up
there (to leave it in her charge for the brief time it would take me
to prepare the tools and materials for the work in hand) and told
her all about it. But I didn't know that at the time, Mr. Cleek, for
he was sitting in a deep, cushioned armchair at the far end of the
room, and the tall back of that chair was turned toward me. Indeed, I
hadn't the faintest suspicion that there was anybody but Lady Leake
and myself in the room until he got up suddenly and said, 'Dad,
you aren't too busy to listen now! Won't you let me ask you what I
was going to do downstairs? Won't you, dad? Please!'
[Illustration: Cleek hears that the fabulous "Ladder of Light" is
back in London again.]
[Illustration: Young Mawson overhears his parents discussing the
problem of the jewel. "He is extravagant to the point of insanity,"
said Sir Mawson.]
"Of course he had heard what I had said, Mr. Cleek--although I never
gave a thought to that at the time--and as Lady Leake had, womanlike,
taken the gorgeous necklace out of the case, held it up to her neck
and was then viewing herself in her dressing mirror, it followed
that he also saw. But how could I dream of there being anything in
that to regret, and he a son of mine? It was only--afterward--when
it came back to my memory----Good God! it is too horrible to
think of even now, much less to talk about!"
"Steady, steady, Sir Mawson!" sounded Cleek's soothing voice. "Brakes
on! Sidetrack your emotions if you can and stick to the mainline!
Well, what followed?"
"I have no very clear recollection, Mr. Cleek, for just then Lady
Leake chose to add her entreaties to his, and to ask me if I would
permit her to draw her next quarter's pin money in advance and
let her take up the I. O. U. for him. But I was so furious at the
thought of his skulking in like a beggar and a cad, and trying to
'bleed' her, that I flew into a violent rage, ordered him out of
the room instantly, and forbade his stepmother to lend or give him
one farthing either then or at any time thereafter. 'There will be
no gambler's I. O. U.'s taken up for you by anybody in this house,'
I flung at him. 'If you are in debt, get out of it in your own way
and as best you can!'
"I think that even then I was conscious of a sense of gratification
at the way he took that ultimatum, Mr. Cleek, for instead of whining
like a whipped cur, he pulled himself up straight and strong,
clicked his heels together, and said very quietly, 'All right, sir,
I'll take you at your word. Thank you for past favours. Good-bye!'
and then walked out of the room. That was the last I have seen or
heard of him."
"H'm! Leave the house, did he?"
"Yes--but not then. That was a few minutes before seven. A servant
saw him on the top landing coming out of his own room with something
wrapped up in a parcel, after that. And another, who was busy
cleaning up in the lower hall, saw him come down and go out at
ten minutes past."
"And in the meantime, the Ladder of Light had vanished?"
"Yes. After Henry had left the boudoir I had a few minutes' heated
argument with Lady Leake; then, remembering the work I had in hand,
I left the necklace in her charge and hurried away to rig up a
temporary workshop. It was about twenty minutes past seven when I
finished doing that, and went back to Lady Leake's boudoir to get the
jewel. I found her in a state of the wildest excitement, flying
about the room like an insane woman and searching everywhere. The
necklace was gone! Only for one single minute of time had it been
out of her sight, yet in that minute it had vanished, utterly and
completely, and there was not a trace of it to be found anywhere."
"H'm! Just so! Case gone, too, Sir Mawson?"
"No! That was still there, lying on her dressing-table, but it was
empty."
"I see. So, then, it could not have been that that was wrapped up
in the parcel your son was seen carrying. Anybody in that room after
Sir Mawson left you, your ladyship?"
"Not a living soul, Mr. Cleek."
"Could no one have stolen it without your knowledge?"
"That would be impossible. I locked the door the instant Sir Mawson
left me."
"Ah, then, of course! Another question, please. Sir Mawson has spoken
of there being 'one single minute' when the necklace was not directly
under your eyes. When was that?"
"When I left the room, Mr. Cleek."
"Oho! Then you did leave it, eh?"
"Yes. It was thoughtless of me, of course; but I only ran down to
the foot of the staircase, when I remembered, and ran back in a
perfect panic. Still I had locked the door in going out even then
and the key was in my hand. It was still locked when I returned,
but in that one single minute the necklace had disappeared. I was
gratifying my woman's vanity by holding it up to my throat and
viewing myself in the glass just an instant before, and I remember
perfectly, laying it down on the velvet lining of its open case at
the time I recollected the matter which caused me to leave the room."
"May I ask what that matter was?"
"Yes. A service I had promised to perform for Miss Eastman."
"Miss Eastman? Who is she?"
"My son's fiancee. She and her father are visiting us at present.
Curzon met and became engaged to Miss Eastman on the occasion of her
last visit to England, and this time her father is accompanying her."
"Her last _visit?_ Then the lady and her father are not English?"
"Oh, dear, no--Americans. They came over less than a week ago.
Pardon? No, I do not at the moment recall the name of the vessel,
Mr. Cleek, but whichever one it was it seems to have been a very
ill-conditioned affair and gave them a very bad crossing, indeed.
That is why I had to render Miss Eastman the service of which I
spoke--the sudden recollection of which caused me to lay down the
necklace and hurry from the room. I had forgotten all about it until
I happened to see the roll of lint on my dressing-table."
"Lint, Lady Leake? What on earth had lint to do with the matter?"
"I had bought it for Miss Eastman when I was in town this morning.
She asked me to, as she had used her last clean bandage yesterday.
She had a very bad fall on shipboard, Mr. Cleek, and injured her left
hand severely!"
Narkom made a curious sort of gulping sound, whipped out his
handkerchief and began to dab his bald spot, and looked round at
Cleek out of the tail of his eye. But Cleek neither moved nor
spoke nor made any sign--merely pushed his lower lip out over his
upper one and stood frowning at the stable door.
And here--just here--a strange and even startling thing occurred.
With just one hoarse "Toot-toot!" to give warning of its coming, a
public taxi swung round the curve of the road, jerked itself up to
a sudden standstill within a rope's cast of the spot where the four
were standing, and immediately there rang forth a rollicking, happy
youthful voice crying out, as the owner of it stood up and touched an
upright forefinger to his numbered cap, in jolly mimicry of the
Hanson cabman of other days: "Keb, sir? Keb, mum? Keb! Keb!" and
hard on the heels of that flung out a laughing, "Hullo, mater?
Hullo, dad? you dear old Thunder Box! I say! 'How does this sort
of thing get you?' as Katie Eastman says. Buttons all over me,
like a blooming Bobby! What?"
And it needed no more than that to assure Cleek and Mr. Narkom
that in the bright-eyed, bonny-faced, laughing young fellow who
jumped down from the driver's seat at this, and stood up straight
and strong, and displayed his taxicabman's livery unabashed and
unashamed, they were looking upon Sir Mawson Leake's eldest son
and--heir!
"Henry!" The voice was Lady Leake's, and there was pain and surprise
and joy and terror all jumbled up in it curiously, as she ran to him.
"Henry! Is it really _you?_"
"'Sure thing!'--to quote Katie again. Just took a spin over to
show myself off. Plenty of brass trimmings! What? I thought, dad,
you'd like to be sure that I really am done with the clubs at last.
Not because they blacklisted me--for they didn't--but because--oh
well, _you_ know. No taxicabmen need apply--that sort of thing.
I'll be invited to resign from every blessed one of them to-morrow,
and there's not a chap connected with any one of 'em who'd be seen
taking a match from me to light his cigarette with after this.
All the same, though, I go out of them with a clean slate, and
that's all I cared about. I did get that two hundred after all,
pater. Curzon and Katie raised it for me between them--out of their
own private accounts, you know--and as driving a car is the only
thing I really do understand, I'm earning the money to pay them back
this way."
"That's the stuff, by Jupiter! That's the stuff!" rapped out Cleek,
impulsively. "You ought to have known from the first, Sir Mawson,
that they don't make thieves of this sort of material?"
"Thieves? What do you mean by thieves? And who the dickens are you,
anyway? I say, dad, who's this johnnie? What's he driving at? What
does he mean by talking about thieves?"
"The necklace--the Ranee's necklace! The Ladder of Light!" bleated
Sir Mawson feebly. "It is gone! It is lost! It went when _you_ went.
There has been no trace of it since." Then he joined Lady Leake, and
plucked at the boy's sleeve, and between them out came the whole
miserable story.
"And you think that I stole it? You dare to think that?" flung out
his son, jerking back from him and brushing aside Lady Leake's
solicitous hand. "Very well, then, think what you jolly well please!
I'm done with the lot of you!"
And after that--the Deluge! Speaking, he turned on his heel and
rushed back to his taxi, wrenched open its door, revealing what
none of them had suspected before, because of the drawn curtains:
that the vehicle was occupied--and sang out in a fine fury, "Pull up
the blinds, Curz. Come out, old chap. Come out, Major! Come out,
Katie--all of you--at once! There isn't going to be any 'jolly lark,'
any 'pleasant surprise,' any 'killing of the fatted calf.' This
isn't a comedy--it's a tragedy! Hop out lively--the lot of you! I'm
done with my father, and I've got to get back to my place in the
ranks as fast as I can fly. I'll pay you back, Katie. I'll pay you
back, Curz, old chap! Yes, by God! I will if I drive this thing night
and day without sleeping!"
Then came a sudden banging of the taxi's door, a hoot from the
horn as he jumped back to his seat and sounded a warning note, and
in the winking of an eye he was off and away, and there in the
road stood a stout, pleasant-faced old gentleman, a youth with a
budding moustache, and a bright-faced, fairylike little lady of
about eighteen, all three of whom were standing stock still and
staring after the vanishing taxi in the blankest of blank amazement.
Of a sudden, however:
"My goodness, popper, I guess Curzon and I have sort of muffed it
somehow!" the little lady said, forlornly.
"I guess you have, honey--I guess you have. Anyhow, something's gone
bust, that's a sure thing! Let's go and ask Sir Mawson what it's all
about."
"Yes, let us by all means," put in the younger man. "Come on!"
Mr. Narkom, who heard these things, drew closer to Cleek, looked up
at him anxiously, and contrived to whisper an inquiry which fell only
upon his ally's ears.
"Found out anything, old chap?"
"Yes. From their words it is clear that Sir Mawson has taken nobody
in the house--even his son, Curzon--into his confidence regarding the
lost necklace."
"I don't mean that--I'm alluding to the others. Found out anything
about _them_?"
"Yes, and a very important thing, too: They are _not_ Diamond
Nick and Dutch Ella. Not in the least like them, neither are they
disguised. Also, Miss Eastman's injury is only a sprained wrist, it
appears. You observe she does not even attempt to cover the back of
her hand. I'm afraid, Mr. Narkom, you've been barking up the wrong
tree."