MEHEMET ALI'S NOTE
Then he turned to Lord Fairholme.
"Just one question," he said, "before I send you off to bed. No, you
must not protest. I want you to meet me here this evening at seven, with
your brain clear and your nerves restored by a good, sound sleep. We
will dine, here or elsewhere, and act subsequently. But at this moment I
want to know the name of the person most readily accessible who can tell
me all about Mr. Talbot's connection with the Sultan's agent."
"His sister, undoubtedly."
"Where can I find her?"
"At Ulster Gardens. I will drive you there."
The barrister smiled. "You are going to bed, I tell you. Give me a few
lines of introduction to Miss Talbot."
The earl's face had brightened at the prospect of meeting his _fiancée_
under the favourable conditions of Brett's presence. But he yielded with
good grace, and promptly sat down to write a brief note explanatory of
the barrister's identity and position in the inquiry.
The two parted at the door, and a hansom rapidly brought Brett to the
residence of Sir Hubert Fitzjames.
A stately footman took Reggie's card and its accompanying letter, placed
them on a salver with a graceful turn of his wrist, which oddly
suggested a similar turn in his nose, and said:
"Miss Talbot is not at home, sir."
"Yes, she is," answered Brett, paying the driver of the hansom.
The footman deigned to exhibit astonishment. Here was a gentleman--one
obviously accustomed to the manners of Society--who declined to accept
the courteous disclaimer of an unexpected visit.
"Miss Talbot is not receiving visitors," he explained.
"Exactly. Take that card and the letter to Miss Talbot and bring me the
answer."
Jeames was no match for his antagonist. He silently showed the way into
a reception room and disappeared. A minute later he announced, with much
deference, that Miss Talbot would see Mr. Brett in the library, and he
conducted this mysterious visitor upstairs.
On rejoining Buttons in the hall he solemnly observed:
"That's a swell cop who is with the missus--shining topper, button-hole,
buckskin gloves, patent leathers, all complete. Footmen ain't in it with
the force, nowadays."
Jeames expanded his magnificent waistcoat with a heavy sigh over this
philosophical dictum, the poignancy of which was enhanced by his
knowledge that the upper housemaid had taken to conversing with a
mounted policeman in the Park during her afternoons off.
The apartment in which Brett found himself gave ready indications of the
character of its tenants. Tod's "Rajasthan" jostled a volume of the
Badminton Library on the bookshelves, a copy of the Allahabad _Pioneer_
lay beside the _Field_ and the _Times_ on the table, and many
varieties of horns made trophies with quaint weapons on the walls.
A complete edition of Ruskin, and some exquisite prints of Rossetti's
best known works, supplied a different set of emblems, whilst the room
generally showed signs of daily occupation.
"Anglo-Indian uncle, artistic niece," was the barrister's rapid comment,
but further analysis was prevented by the entrance of Miss Edith Talbot.
The surprise of the pair was mutual.
Brett expected to see a young, pretty and clever girl, vain enough to
believe she had brains, and sufficiently well endowed with that rare
commodity to be able to twist the good-natured Earl of Fairholme round
her little finger.
Young, not more than twenty--unquestionably beautiful, with the graceful
contour and delicately-balanced features of a portrait by Romney--Edith
Talbot bore few of the marks that pass current as the outward and
visible signs of a modern woman of Society. That she should be
self-possessed and dressed in perfect taste were as obvious adjuncts of
her character as that each phase of her clear thought should reflect
itself in a singularly mobile face.
To such a woman pretence was impossible, the polite fictions of
fashionable life impossible. Brett readily understood why the Earl of
Fairholme had fallen in love with this fair creature. He had simply
bent in worship before a goddess of his own creed.
To the girl, Brett was equally a revelation.
Fairholme's introductory note described the barrister as "the smartest
criminal lawyer in London--one whose aid would be invaluable." She
expected to meet a sharp-featured, wizened, elderly man, with
gold-rimmed eye-glasses, a queer voice and a nasty habit of asking
unexpected questions.
In place of this commonplace personality, she encountered a handsome,
well-groomed gentleman--one who won confidence by his intellectual face,
and retained it by invisibly establishing a social equality.
Fortunately, there is yet in Britain an aristocracy wherein good birth
is synonymous with good breeding--a freemasonry whose passwords cannot
be simulated, nor its membership bought.
Brett read the wonder in the girl's eyes, and hastened to explain.
"The Earl of Fairholme," said Brett, "thought I might be of some service
in the matter of your brother's strange disappearance, Miss Talbot. I am
not a professional detective, but my friends are good enough to believe
that I am very successful in unravelling mysteries that are beyond the
ken of Scotland Yard. I have heard something of the facts in this
present affair. Will you trust me so far as to tell me all that is known
to you personally?"
"My uncle, General Fitzjames, has just gone to Scotland Yard," she
began, timidly.
"Quite so. Perhaps you prefer to await his return?"
"Oh, no, I do not mean that. But it is so hard to know how best to act.
Uncle expects the police to accomplish impossibilities. He says that
they should long since have found out what has become of Jack. Perhaps
they may resent my interference."
"My interference, to be exact," said Reggie, with the pleasant smile
that had fascinated so many women. Even Edith Talbot was not wholly
proof against its magic.
"I, personally, have little faith in them," she confessed.
"I have none."
"Well, I will do as you advise."
"Then I recommend you to take me into your confidence. I know Scotland
Yard and its methods. We do not follow the same path."
"I believe in you and trust you," said the girl.
So ingenuous was the look from the large, deep eyes which accompanied
this declaration of confidence, that many men would have pronounced Miss
Talbot to be an experienced flirt. Brett knew better. He simply bowed
his acknowledgements.
"What is it that you want to know?" she continued. "We ourselves are no
better informed than the newspapers as to what has actually happened,
save that four men have been killed as the result of a carefully-planned
robbery. As for my brother----"
She paused and strove hard to force back her tears.
"Your brother has simply vanished, Miss Talbot. If the criminals did not
scruple to leave four dead men behind, they would not draw the line at a
fifth. The clear inference is that your brother is alive, but under
restraint."
"I can see that it is possible he was alive until some time after the
tragedy at Albert Gate. But--but--what connection can Jack have with the
theft of diamonds worth millions? These people used him as their tool in
some manner. Why should they spare him when success had crowned their
efforts?"
"We are conversing in riddles. Will you explain?"
"You know that my brother is an assistant Under-Secretary in the Foreign
Office?"
"Yes."
"Well, early in September, his chief placed him in charge of a special
undertaking. The Sultan had decided to have a large number of rough
diamonds cut and polished by the best European experts. They were all
magnificent gems, exceedingly valuable it seems, being rare both in size
and purity; but one of them was larger than any known diamond. Jack told
me it was quite as big as a good-sized hen's egg. Both it and the
others, he said, had the appearance of lumps of alum; but the experts
said that the smaller stones were worth more than a million sterling,
whilst the price of the large one could not be fixed. No one but an
Emperor or Sultan would buy it. His Excellency Mehemet Ali Pasha was the
especial envoy charged with this mission, and he brought credentials to
the Foreign Office asking for facilities to be given for its execution.
He and the two secretaries who accompanied him have been killed."
"Yes?" said Brett, whose eyes were fixed intently on the hearthrug.
"Jack was given the special duty of looking after Mehemet Ali and his
companions during their residence in London. It was his business to
afford them every assistance in his power, to procure them police
protection, obtain for them the best advice attainable in the diamond
trade, and generally place at their disposal all the resources which the
British Government itself could command if it undertook such a curious
task. He had been with them about a month--not hourly engaged, you
understand, as once the preliminary arrangements were made, he had
little further trouble--but he used to call there every morning and
afternoon to see if he could render any assistance. Matters had
progressed so favourably until the day before yesterday, that in another
month he hoped to see the last of them. He was always saying that he
would be glad when the business was ended, as he did not like to be
officially connected with the fate of a few little bits of stone that
happened to be so immensely valuable."
"Did your brother call there as usual on Monday afternoon?" said Brett.
"Yes; he came straight here from Albert Gate, and had tea with uncle and
myself. He sat in the very chair and in the very position you now
occupy. I can remember him saying: 'By jove! the hen's egg'--that is
what he used to call the big diamond--'is turning out in fine style.' He
even discussed the possibility of bringing us to see the collection when
it was finished and before it left this country."
"Did your brother say why the diamonds were brought to this country in
the first instance?"
"Yes; the Sultan and his advisers seemed to think the work of cutting
them could be performed more safely and expeditiously here than anywhere
else. Even the Turk has a high regard for the manner in which law and
order are maintained in Britain. Yet the sequel has shown that the
diamonds and their guardians were perhaps in greater danger here than
they would have been in Constantinople."
"Was that the only reason?" said Brett, who had apparently made up his
mind with reference to the pattern of the carpet, and was now gazing
into the bright fire which danced merrily in the grate, for the day
though fine was chilly.
The girl wrinkled her brows in thought before she answered: "I think I
do remember Jack saying that he believed there was some State business
mixed up in the affair, but I am quite sure he did not know the exact
facts himself."
"Can you recollect any of the special precautions taken to protect the
gems? Your brother may have mentioned some details in conversation, you
know."
"Oh, I think I know all about them. In the first instance, the house at
Albert Gate had previously been tenanted by a rich banker, and it was
well defended by all ordinary means against the attacks of ordinary
burglars. But, in addition to this, before the diamonds left the safe at
the Bank of England, the building was practically torn to pieces inside
by workmen acting under the direction of the Commissioner of Police. It
was absolutely impossible for anyone to enter except through the front
door, unless they flew out of the second storey window. Servants and
workmen, like everybody else, had to use this door alone, as the windows
and doors in the basement had all been bricked up. Inside the
entrance-hall there were always twelve policemen, and an inspector in
charge.
"Every one who left the house was searched by the inspector on duty, and
Jack used to say that he was very glad he invariably insisted upon this
examination, although the police were at first disinclined to meet his
wishes in the matter, he being, so to speak, their direct superior for
the time. Beneath the entrance-hall were rooms occupied by several
Turkish and other servants. Mehemet Ali himself, in the presence of his
secretaries, used to open the door leading to the suite of apartments in
which the diamond cutters worked, and two of the Turkish gentlemen would
remain there all day until the men left in the evening. The Envoy and
both secretaries used to meet Jack when he visited the place, and for
the last three weeks he had nothing to do but see the diamonds, count
them, drink an excellent cup of coffee, and smoke a wonderful cigarette,
made of some special Turkish tobacco, cultivated and prepared only for
the Imperial household."
"Ah!" sighed Brett, with a note of almost unconscious envy in his voice.
He knew exactly what that coffee and those cigarettes would be like. "I
beg your pardon," he went on, perceiving that Miss Talbot did not
understand his exclamation. "Will you tell me as nearly as you can the
occurrences of Monday evening?"
"They were simple enough," said the girl. "My brother dined at home. We
had one or two guests, and were all in the drawing room about 10 15,
when a note came for him from Mehemet Ali. I know exactly what was in
it. I looked over his shoulder whilst he read it. The words were: 'I
wish to see you to-night on important business. Come, if possible, at
once.' I have to tell you that it was in French, but this is an exact
translation."
"Your brother was quite sure that it was from Mehemet Ali himself?" said
Brett.
"Quite sure," was the reply. "He knew his handwriting well, having had
several communications from him during the progress of the business."
"Did your brother leave the house immediately?" asked Brett.
"That instant. He went downstairs, put on his overcoat and hat, and got
into a cab with the messenger who brought the note."
"Do you know who this messenger was?"
"One of the policemen on duty in the house itself."
A slight pause ensued, and Brett was about to take his departure, having
no further questions to ask at the moment, when some one was heard
hastily ascending the stairs, talking to a companion as he advanced.
"This is my uncle," exclaimed Miss Talbot, rising to go to the door.
Before she could reach it an elderly gentleman entered, bearing upon him
all those distinguishing tokens that stamp a man as a retired
major-general.
He exclaimed impetuously--
"I have brought a gentleman from Scotland Yard, my dear." Then he caught
sight of Brett. "Who is this?"
Edith was about to explain, when another man entered--a strongly-built,
bullet-headed man, with keen eyes and firm mouth, and a curious
suggestion in his appearance of having combined pugilism with
process-serving as a professional means of existence. His face extended
into a smile when his eyes fell upon the barrister.
"Ah, Mr. Brett," he cried. "Now we have something to do that is up to
your mark. You are on the spot first, as usual, but this time I can
honestly say that I am glad to see you."
Sir Hubert Fitzjames glanced in astonishment from his niece to the
barrister. He could find nothing better to say than--
"This, my dear, is Mr. Winter, of Scotland Yard."