THE FOUR FACES
They were quietly dressed, inoffensive-looking men, one a good deal
younger than the other. Judged by their clothes and general appearance
they might have been gentlemen's servants or superior shop-assistants.
Directly they saw that I was not alone, the elder, whose age was fifty
or so, said, in a tense voice:
"We wish to see you alone, Mr. Berrington. Our business is quite
private."
"You can talk openly before this gentleman," I answered, for, at a
glance from me, Albeury had remained in the room. "What do you want to
see me about?"
"In private, please, Mr. Berrington," he repeated doggedly, not heeding
my question.
"Either you speak to me in this gentleman's presence," I answered,
controlling my irritation, "or not at all. What do you want?"
They hesitated for barely an instant, and I thought my firmness had
disconcerted them, when suddenly I saw them exchange a swift glance. The
younger man stepped quickly back to the door, which was close behind
him, and, without turning, locked it. As he did so his companion sprang
to one side with a sharp cry. Albeury had him covered with a revolver.
The younger man had already slipped his hand into his pocket, when I
sprang upon him.
Though some years have passed since I practised ju-jitsu, I have not
forgotten the different holds. In a moment I had his arms locked behind
him—had he attempted to struggle then he must have broken his wrists.
Turning, I saw that Albeury had the other man still at his mercy with
the revolver—not for an instant did he look away from him.
I was about to call loudly to Simon to call the police, when the elder
man spoke.
"Stop!" he gasped, just above a whisper. "You have done us. Give us a
chance to escape and well help you."
"Help me! How?" I said, still gripping my man tightly. "What have you
come for? What did you want?"
"We're under orders—so help me, we are!" he exclaimed huskily. "We had
at any cost to see you."
"And for that you bribed my man, or tried to?"
"Yes—to let us see you alone."
Albeury's arm, extended with the cocked revolver, was as rigid as a
rock. The muzzle covered the man's chest. Again the man glanced swiftly
at the detective, then went on, speaking quickly:
"If you'll let us go, we'll tell everything—anything you want to know!"
I glanced an inquiry at Albeury. Though his gaze was still set upon his
man, he caught my look.
"Right—we'll let you go," he said, without moving, "if you'll tell us
everything. Now speak. Why are you here?"
"We're under orders," the man repeated. "We were not to leave this flat
with him alive in it," he jerked his chin at me. "If we do we shall be
killed ourselves when The Four Faces know. But you've done us. We've
got to escape now somehow, if you'll let us, and our only way is to give
you information that'll help you to get the whole gang arrested. You've
discovered a code we use, and you've tampered with it, and that's
what's done it."
"Done what?"
"Got The Four Faces down on you, and made them set on killing you."
"Whom do you mean by 'The Four Faces'?"
"Why, the men and women—you know them; Gastrell, Stapleton, and the
rest—the gang known as The Four Faces."
"Why are they known as 'The Four Faces'?"
"Because there are four heads, each being known as 'The Fat Face,' 'The
Long Face,' 'The Thin Face,' and 'The Square Face.' And each head has
four others of the gang directly under his or her orders."
"And Gastrell and Stapleton are 'faces'?"
"Yes."
"But Gastrell is dead."
"Dead? Gastrell? Impossible!"
"Yes. Go on."
For some moments astonishment held him dumb.
"Gastrell and the rest of them will be at Eldon Hall, in Northumberland,
the day after to-morrow," he said at last, "for the coming of age of
Cranmere's son. The house is to be looted—cleaned out. Everything is
arranged—the plan is perfect—as all the arrangements of The Four Faces
always are—it can't fail unless—"
"Yes?"
"Now that you know, you can warn Cranmere. You must warn him to be very
careful, for if they get wind there's suspicion about they'll drop it
and you won't catch them. You know the robberies and other things
there've been, and nobody's been caught—they've not even been
suspected. Now's your chance to get them all—the first real chance
there's ever been. But you mustn't show up, mind that. This house is
watched—to see when we come out. Nor you nor your man must go out of
this flat till the gang's been caught, every one of them—it's the day
after to-morrow they'll be at Eldon Hall. They're expecting a gigantic
haul there, including all the Cranmere diamonds—they're worth thousands
on thousands. You're both known by sight, and if you're seen about we're
just as bad as dead."
He stopped abruptly, then went on:
"And you mustn't answer if anybody rings or knocks. And you mustn't
answer the telephone. You understand? Nobody must answer it. It's got to
be supposed you're both in here, dead—you and your man. They've got to
think we done it. There's no one else living in this flat, we
know that."
"I can't warn Lord Cranmere if I don't go out of here."
"He can"—he indicated the detective. "He can go out at any time. They
don't know he's in here. If we'd known you'd anybody with you we'd have
come another time. Your man said you were alone—quite alone, he
said—and, well, we thought the fifty quid had squared him."
Still holding my man tightly in the ju-jitsu grip, I again spoke quickly
to the detective.
"Isn't he lying?" I asked. "Is it safe to let them go?"
"Quite safe," he answered, without an instant's hesitation. "I know them
both. This fellow has been four times in jail—the first time was
seventeen years ago—he got fourteen months for burglary; the second
time was thirteen years ago, for attempted murder, when he got five
years; the third was eleven years ago; the fourth was nine years back.
He's got half a dozen aliases or more, and your man—let me see, yes,
he's been once in jail: ten years for forgery, went in when he was
eighteen and not been out above three years. It's safe to let them
go—quite safe—they've spoken straight this time, couldn't help
themselves."
While Albeury was speaking I had seen the men gasp. They were staring at
him now with a look of abject terror. But still I held my man.
"I don't like to risk it," I expostulated. "The whole tale may be a
plant."
"It's not, Mr. Berrington. I tell you they're straight this time,
they've got to be to save their skins. I could put the 'Yard' on to them
right away—but it wouldn't serve our purpose, the gang would
then escape."
His revolver still covered the elder man's chest.
"Hand out your gun," he said sharply, "and empty out your pockets—both
of you."
Soon everything the men's pockets had contained lay upon the floor.
Among the things were three pistols, two "jemmies," some curious little
bottles, and some queer-looking implements I couldn't guess the use of.
Just then a thought occurred to me.
"But they'd have robbed this flat," I said, "if what they say is true."
"You are mistaken," Albeury answered. "They didn't come for robbery, but
on a more serious errand—to put an end to you. I know the methods of
this gang pretty well, I can assure you. You would have been found dead,
and your man dead too most likely, and the circumstances attending your
death would all have pointed to suicide, or perhaps to accidental death.
But we've not much time to spare. Come."
He turned to the men.
"Come over here, both of you," he said sharply, and signalled to me to
release my man. I did so. To my surprise, both men seemed cowed. In
silence, and without attempt at violence, they followed Albeury across
to the escritoire. At that moment it was that the bell of the flat rang
loudly. Without stirring, we stood expectantly waiting. I had unlocked
the door of the room, and presently Simon entered.
"Mr. Osborne would like to see you, sir," he said in his usual tone of
deference. "When I told him you had visitors he said he wouldn't come
in. He's waiting at the door, sir."
"Jack! Splendid!" I exclaimed. "The very man we want to see—you have
heard me speak of Mr. Osborne, Albeury, and you know plenty about him."
I turned to Simon. "Show him in here at once," I said. "If he still
hesitates, say I want particularly to see him."
It seemed quite a long time since last I had met Osborne—on the night
we had gone together, with poor Preston, to Willow Road, and had
afterwards been followed by Alphonse Furneaux. I had felt so annoyed
with Jack for becoming enamoured of Jasmine Gastrell after all we had
come to know about her that I had felt in no hurry to renew my
friendship with him. But now circumstances had arisen, and things had
changed. If he were still infatuated with the woman, we should, between
the lot of us, I thought, quickly be able to disillusion him.
He looked rather serious as he entered, and glanced from one to another
of us inquiringly. I introduced Albeury to him; as I mentioned
Albeury's name I saw the two scoundrels start. Evidently he was well
known to them by name, and probably by repute.
"As I was passing, I looked in," Osborne said, "as we haven't run across
each other for such a long time, but I don't know that I've got anything
in particular to say to you, and you seem to be engaged."
"But I have something particular to say to you," I answered quickly,
coming at once to the point, as Simon left the room and shut the door
behind him. "You've made pretty much of a fool of yourself with that
Gastrell woman, Jack," I went on, with difficulty restraining the
indignation I felt. "You are largely responsible for terrible things
that have happened during the past few days—including the murder of
George Preston."
"Murder? The newspapers said it was suicide."
"Of course they did—it was arranged that they should. Now listen,
Jack," I continued seriously. "We are on the eve of what may prove to be
a tremendous tragedy, of an event that in any case is going to make an
enormous sensation—nothing less than the capture, or attempted capture,
of the whole of the notorious and dangerous gang that a short time ago
you appeared to be so desperately anxious to bring to justice. These two
men," I indicated them, "belong to the gang in the sense that they are
employed by it; but they have now turned King's evidence."
In a few words I outlined to him exactly what had happened. As I stopped
speaking, Albeury interrupted.
"And if you will now listen, Mr. Osborne," he said, "you will hear a
complete statement of facts which should interest you."
With that he pulled a notebook out of his pocket, opened it, laid it
flat on the escritoire and seated himself, producing his fountain pen.
Both men stood beside him.
Rapidly he cross-questioned them, writing quickly down in shorthand
every word they spoke. Almost endless were the questions he put
concerning the whole gang. One by one the name of each member of it was
entered in the notebook, followed by an address which, the men declared,
would find him—or her. The number of members, we thus discovered,
amounted to over twenty, of whom no less than eight were women. Jasmine
Gastrell's career was described in detail, also Connie Stapleton's,
Doris Lorrimer's, Bob Challoner's, Hugesson Gastrell's, and the careers
of all the rest in addition. The names of some of these were known to
us, but the majority were not. Incidentally we now found out that
Hugesson Gastrell had never been in Australia, nor yet in Tasmania, and
that the story of his having been left a fortune by an uncle was wholly
without foundation. The natural son of well-to-do people in Yorkshire,
he had been launched penniless on the world to make his way as best he
could, and the rapidity with which he had increased his circle of
acquaintance among rich and useful people from the time he had become a
member of the gang had been not the least remarkable feature in his
extraordinary career.
I shall never forget that cross-examination, or the rapidity with which
it was conducted. In the course of a quarter of an hour many mysteries
which had long puzzled us were revealed, many problems solved. The woman
whose stabbed and charred body had been found among the _debris_ of the
house in Maresfield Gardens burnt down on Christmas Eve was, it seemed,
another of Gastrell's victims; he had stabbed her to death, and the
house had been fired with a view to destroying all traces of the crime.
Questioned further, the elder of the two scoundrels went on to state
that he had been in the house in Maresfield Gardens on the night that
Osborne and I had called there, just before Christmas, the night we had
driven up there from Brooks's Club on the pretext of Osborne's having
found at the club a purse which he believed—so he had told the woman
Gastrell—to have been dropped by Hugesson Gastrell. Other members of
the gang had been in the house at the time, the man said,—just before
we entered they had been in the very room into which Jasmine Gastrell
had shown us when she had at last admitted us, which of course accounted
for the dirty tumblers I had noticed on the table, and the chair that
had felt hot when I sat in it. She had first opened the door to us, the
man continued, under the impression that we were additional members of
the gang whom she expected—our rings at the door had accidentally
coincided with the rings these men would have given. Then, at once
discovering her mistake, and recognizing Osborne's voice, she had deemed
it prudent to admit us, thinking thus to allay any suspicion her unusual
reception might otherwise arouse in us.
He told us, too, that the great cobra kept by Gastrell—he had owned it
from the time it was a tiny thing a foot long—had once or twice been
used by him in connection with murders for which he had been
responsible—it was far from being harmless, though Gastrell had
declared to us that night that it couldn't harm anybody if it tried.
Indeed, it seemed that his first intention had been to let it attack us,
for he feared that our having recognized him might arouse our suspicion
and indirectly lead to his arrest, and for that reason he had, while we
were left in darkness in the hall, opened the aperture in the wall
through which it was allowed to pass into the room into which Jasmine
Gastrell had then admitted us. But a little later, deeming that the
crime might be discovered in spite of all the precautions that he would
have taken to conceal it, he had suddenly changed his mind, unlocked the
door, and come to our rescue at the last moment.
The mysterious affair in Grafton Street had been arranged—they went on
to say when threatened by Albeury with arrest if they refused to tell
everything—by Hugesson Gastrell and two accomplices, the two men with
whom Osborne had entered into conversation on the night of Gastrell's
reception in Cumberland Place, and it was a member of the gang, whose
name I had not heard before—the sole occupant of the house at the
time—who had questioned Osborne in the dark. Upon the unexpected
arrival of the police at Grafton Street this man had clambered through a
skylight in the roof, crawled along the roofs of several houses, and
there remained hidden until nightfall, when he had escaped down a
"thieves' ladder," which is made of silk rope and so contrived that upon
the thief's reaching the ground he can detach it from the chimney-stack
to which it has been fastened. Jasmine Gastrell herself it was who had
sent Dulcie the telegram signed with my name, her intention being to
decoy me into the Grafton Street house, where I should have shared
Osborne's unpleasant experience. It was Gastrell who had murdered
Churchill. Who had murdered Preston on board the boat, they declared
they didn't know, nor could they say for certain who had inserted in the
newspaper the cypher messages disentangled by Dick, for Gastrell,
Stapleton, Jasmine Gastrell, and other leaders of the gang were in the
habit of communicating with their crowd of confederates by means of
secret codes. Incidentally they mentioned that Connie Stapleton was in
reality Gastrell's wife, and that Jasmine was his mistress, though
Harold Logan, found in the hiding-hole at Holt, had been madly in
love with her.
"There," I said, turning to Jack Osborne as Albeury ended his
cross-examination, "now you've got it all in black and white. And that's
the woman you've been fooling with and say you're going to marry—not
merely an adventuress, but a criminal who has herself instigated common
burglaries and has connived at and been an accessory to murders! You
must be mad, Jack—stark, staring. For Heaven's sake get over your
absurd infatuation."
"It's not 'infatuation' on my side only, Mike," he answered, with a
curious look that came near to being pathetic. "Jasmine is in love with
me—she really is. It sounds absurd, I know, under the circumstances,
but you know what women are and the extraordinary attachments they
sometimes form—yes, even the worst of them. She's promised to start
afresh, lead a straight life, if only I'll marry her; she has indeed,
and, what's more, she'll do it."
I heard Albeury snort, and even the scoundrels, who had stood by looking
on and listening, grinned.
"In forty-eight hours she'll be arrested and sent to jail," I said
calmly. "Don't be such an utter idiot, Jack!"
He sprang to his feet.
"Jasmine arrested!" he cried. "My God, she shan't be! I'll go to her
now! I'll warn her! I'll—"
"You'll do nothing of the sort," Albeury interrupted. "We've a trap set
for the whole crew, more than twenty of them in all, and if you warn
that woman she'll tell the rest and then—"
"Well, what?"
"Our plan will be defeated—more than that, the whole lot of us in this
room will be murdered as sure as I'm sitting here. You've heard the
truth about this gang from these two men. You know what a desperate
crowd they are; what they'd be like if they get their backs against the
wall you ought to be able to guess. Mr. Osborne, unless you pledge your
solemn word that you'll not warn Jasmine Gastrell, I shall be forced to
retain you here. Mr. Berrington has told you that I am an international
police detective. I have, under the circumstances, the power to
arrest you."
Osborne was evidently terribly upset. For a minute he sat, thinking
deeply. A glance showed how madly in love he obviously was with the
woman. Looking at him, I wondered whether what he had said could by any
possibility be true—that Jasmine Gastrell had really lost her heart to
him. The idea, at first thought, seemed absurd, even grotesque,
and yet—
Suddenly Jack looked up.
"Supposing," he said, speaking with great deliberation, "I pledge my
solemn word that I won't warn her of what you intend to do, or give her
any reason to suspect that such a plot exists, and that I undertake to
take her abroad with me and keep her there for one year from now—I
shall marry her at once—will you undertake that she shall leave the
country unmolested, and be left unmolested?"
I looked inquiringly at Albeury.
"Yes," he said at once. "I agree to that—we both agree to it; that's
so, Mr. Berrington?"
I nodded. A thing I liked about Albeury was that he made up his mind
almost instantly—that he never hesitated a moment.
"All the same, Mr. Osborne," he added quickly, "you must pardon my
saying that I consider you barely sane. It's no business of mine, I
know, but do for God's sake think what you are doing before you bind
yourself for life to such a woman—think of it, _for life!_"
"That's all right," Jack answered quietly. "Don't distress yourself. I
know exactly what I am doing, and—"
He paused, looking hard at Albeury.
"From now onward," he said slowly, "Jasmine Gastrell will be a wholly
different woman. I am going away with her at once, Albeury; to-morrow,
at latest—we may even leave to-night. We shall not return to England
for a year—that I promise you. For a year I shall see neither
Berrington nor you nor any of my friends. But in a year's time you and
Berrington and I, and Jasmine too, will meet again, and then—"
The telephone in the flat rang loudly. Albeury sprang up. An instant
later he was in the hall, preventing Simon from answering the call.
Quickly he returned, while the bell continued ringing.
"What's your code—Morse?" he said sharply to the men.
"No—secret," the elder man answered.
"Quick, then—go; if it's not for you, say so."
Carefully the man Albeury had cross-questioned unhooked the receiver. He
held it to his ear, and an instant later nodded. Then, with the pencil
which hung down by a string, he tapped the transmitter five times, with
measured beat.
Still holding the receiver to his ear, he conversed rapidly, by means of
taps, with his confederates at the other end. From where we stood, close
by, the taps at the other end were faintly audible. For nearly five
minutes this conversation by code continued. Then the man hung up the
receiver and faced us.
"I done it," he said. "Now me and my pal can get away from here at
once—and both of you," indicating Albeury and Osborne. "We shall meet
our pals who've watched this house—we shall meet them in Tottenham
Court Road in half an hour. I've told them we've done out Mr. Berrington
and his man. They think you both dead. It's a deal, then?"
"What's 'a deal'?" I asked.
"That you and your man stick in here until after the gang has been
taken."
"Yes, that's understood."
"And that you won't answer any bell, or knock, nor any telephone, nor
show any sign of life till after they've been took?"
"Of course. That's all arranged."
"Then we'll go, and—and good luck to you."
A few moments later we heard them going down the stairs. At once Albeury
called Osborne and myself into the room we had just left. Then he rang
for Simon.
Everything was quickly settled. Albeury was to go at once to Scotland
Yard and make arrangements for the arrest of the gang at Eldon Hall on
the following day but one; the arrival of the large body of detectives
that would be needed would have, as he explained, to be planned with the
greatest secrecy. After that he would catch the night express to the
north, and, on the following morning, himself call at Eldon Hall to see
Lord Cranmere. He would not alarm him in the least, he said. He would
tell him merely that there were suspicions of a proposed attempted
robbery, and ask leave to station detectives.
"And I'm to stay here with Simon, I suppose," I said despondently,
"until everything is finished."
"Not a bit of it," he answered. "Simon will stay here, and with him a
detective who will arrive to-night at midnight. We may need you at Eldon
Hall, and you must be there."
"Meet you there? But I have promised those men that—besides, supposing
that I am seen."
"As far as those scoundrels are concerned," he answered, "all they care
about is to save their wretched skins. You won't be seen, that I'll
guarantee, but none the less you must be there—it's absolutely
necessary. A closed car will await you at the Bond Street Tube station
at three o'clock to-morrow morning. Ask the driver no questions—he will
have his orders."
Some minutes later Albeury left us. Osborne had already gone. I told
Simon, who had been taken into our confidence, to pack a few necessaries
in a small bag for me, and then, seated alone, smoking a cigar for the
first time since my return, I allowed my thoughts to wander.