Jimmy had gone up to his room to put on the costume he was to wear in
the first act at about the time when Spennie was being seized upon by
Charteris to act as prompter. As he moved toward the stairs, a
square-cut figure appeared.
It was the faithful Galer.
There was nothing in his appearance to betray the detective to the
unskilled eye, but years of practice had left Spike with a sort of
sixth sense as regarded the force. He could pierce the subtlest
disguise. Jimmy had this gift in an almost equal degree, and it had
not needed Mr. Galer's constant shadowing of himself to prove to Jimmy
the correctness of Spike's judgment. He looked at the representative
of Wragge's Detective Agency, Ltd., as he stood before him now, taking
in his every detail: the square, unintelligent face; the badly cut
clothes; the clumsy heels; the enormous feet.
"And this," he said to himself, "is the man McEachern thinks capable
of tying my hands!" There were moments when the spectacle of Mr. Galer
filled Jimmy with an odd sort of fury, a kind of hurt professional
pride. The feeling that this espionage was a direct challenge enraged
him. Behind this clumsy watcher he saw always the self-satisfied
figure of Mr. McEachern. He seemed to hear him chuckling to himself.
"If it wasn't for Molly," he said to himself, "I'd teach McEachern a
lesson. I'm trying to hold myself in, and he sets these fool
detectives onto me. I shouldn't mind if he'd chosen somebody who knew
the rudiments of the game, but Galer! Galer!
"Well, Mr. Galer," he said, aloud, "you aren't trying to escape, are
you? You're coming in to see the show, aren't you?"
"Oh, yes," said the detective. "Jest wanted to go upstairs for 'alf a
minute. You coming, too?"
"I was going to dress," said Jimmy, as they went up. "See you later,"
he added, at the door. "Hope you'll like the show."
He went into his room. Mr. Galer passed on.
* * * * *
Jimmy had finished dressing, and had picked up a book to occupy the
ten minutes before he would be needed downstairs, when there burst
into the room Spike Mullins, in a state of obvious excitement.
"Gee, Mr. Chames!"
"Hello, Spike."
Spike went to the door, opened it, and looked up and down the passage.
"Mr. Chames," he said, in a whisper, shutting the door, "there's bin
doin's to-night for fair. Me coco's still buzzin'. Say, I was to Sir
Thomas' dressin' room----"
"What! What were you doing there?"
Spike looked somewhat embarrassed. He grinned apologetically, and
shuffled his feet.
"I've got dem, Mr. Chames," he said.
"Got them? Got what?"
"Dese."
He plunged his hand in his pocket, and drew forth a glittering mass.
Jimmy's jaw dropped as he gazed at Lady Blunt's rope of pearls.
"Two hundred t'ousand plunks," murmured Spike, gazing lovingly at
them. "I says to myself, Mr. Chames ain't got no time to be getting'
after dem himself. He's too busy dese days wit' jollyin' along the
swells. So it's up to me, I says, 'cos Mr. Chames'll be tickled to
deat', all right, all right, if we can git away wit' dem. So I----"
Jimmy gave tongue with an energy which amazed his faithful follower.
"Spike! You lunatic! Didn't I tell you there was nothing doing when
you wanted to take those things the other day?"
"Sure, Mr. Chames. But dose was little dinky t'ings. Dese poils is
boids, for fair."
"Good heavens, Spike, you must be mad. Can't you see--Oh, Lord!
Directly the loss of those pearls is discovered, we shall have those
detectives after us in a minute. Didn't you know they had been
watching us?"
An involuntary chuckle escaped Spike.
"'Scuse me, Mr. Chames, but dat's funny about dem sleut's. Listen.
Dey's bin an' arrest each other."
"What!"
"Dat's right. Dey had a scrap in de dark, each finking de odder was
after de jools, an' not knowin' dey was bote sleut's, an' now one of
dem's bin an' taken de odder off, an' locked him in de cellar."
"What on earth do you mean?"
Spike giggled at the recollection.
"Listen, Mr. Chames, it's dis way. I'm in de dressin' room, chasin'
around wit' dis lantern here for de jool box"--he produced from his
other pocket a small bicycle lamp--"and just as I gets a line on it,
gee! I hears a footstep comin' down de passage straight for de door.
Was to de bad? Dat's right. Gee, I says to m'self, here's one of de
sleut' guys what's bin an' got wise to me, and he's comin' in to put
de grip on me. So I gets up, an' I blows out de lantern, and I stands
dere in de dark, waitin' for him to come in. And den I'm going to get
busy before he can see who I am, and jolt him one on de point, and
den, while he's down and out, chase meself for de soivants' hall."
"Yes?" said Jimmy.
"Well, dis guy, he gets to de door, and opens it, and I'm just goin'
to butt in, when dere suddenly jumps out from de room on de odder side
de passage anodder guy, and gets de rapid strangleholt on dis foist
mug. Say, wouldn't dat make you wonder was you on your feet or your
coco?"
"Go on. What happened, then?"
"Dey begins to scrap good and hard in de dark. Dey couldn't see me,
and I couldn't see dem, but I could hear dem bumpin' about an'
sluggin' each odder, all right, all right. And by an' by one of dem
puts de odder to de bad, so dat he goes down and takes de count; an'
den I hears a click. And I know what dat is. One of de guys has put de
irons on de odder guy. Den I hears him strike a light--I'd turned de
switch what lights up de passage before I got into de room--and den he
says, 'Ah', he says, 'got youse, have I? Not the boid I expected, but
you'll do.' I knew his voice. It was dat mug what calls himself
Galer."
"I suppose I'm the bird he expected," said Jimmy. "Well?"
"De odder mug was too busy catchin' up wit' his breat' to shoot it
back swift, but after he's bin doin' de deep breathin' stunt for a
while, he says, 'You mutt', he says, 'youse to de bad. You've made a
break, you have.' He put it different, but dat's what he meant. Den he
says that he's a sleut', too. Does de Galer mug give him de glad eye?
Not on your life. He says dat dat's de woist tale that's ever bin
handed to him. De odder mug says, 'I'm Sir Tummas' vally', he says.
'Aw, cut it out', says Galer. 'Sure youse ain't Sir Tummas himself?'
'Show me to him', says de foist guy, 'den you'll see.' 'Not on your
life', says Galer. 'What! Butt in among de swells what's enjoyin'
themselves and spoil deir evenin' by showin' dem a face like yours? To
de woods! It's youse for de coal cellar, me man, and we'll see what
youse has got to say afterward. G'wan!' And off dey went. And I lit me
lantern again, got de jools, and chased meself here."
Jimmy stretched out his hand.
"All very exciting," he said. "And now you'll just hand me those
pearls, and I'll seize the opportunity while the coast is clear to put
them back where they belong."
Only for a moment did Spike hesitate. Then he pulled out the jewels,
and placed them in Jimmy's hand. Mr. Chames was Mr. Chames, and what
he said went. But his demeanor was tragic, telling eloquently of hopes
blighted.
Jimmy took the necklace with a thrill. He was an expert in jewels, and
a fine gem affected him much as a fine picture affects the artistic.
He went to the light, and inspected them gloatingly.
As he did so, he uttered a surprised exclamation. He ran the jewels
through his fingers. He scrutinized them again, more closely this
time.
Then he turned to Spike, with a curious smile.
"You'd better be going downstairs," he said. "I'll just run along and
replace them. Where is the box?"
"It's on de floor against de wall, near de window, Mr. Chames."
"Good. Better give me that lamp."
There was no one in the passage. He raced softly along it to Sir
Thomas Blunt's dressing room.
He lit his lamp, and found the box without difficulty. Dropping the
necklace in, he closed down the lid.
"They'll want a new lock, I'm afraid," he said. "However!"
He rose to his feet.
"Jimmy!" said a startled voice.
He whipped round. The light of the lamp fell on Molly, standing, pale
and open-eyed, beside the curtain by the door.