I
I have already recorded many of the adventures of my friend Martin
Hewitt, but among them there have been more of a certain few which were
discovered to be related together in a very extraordinary manner; and it
is to these that I am now at liberty to address myself. There may have
been others--cases which gave no indication of their connection with
these; some of them indeed I may have told without a suspicion of their
connection with the Red Triangle; but the first in which that singular
accompaniment became apparent was the matter of Samuel's diamonds. The
case exhibited many interesting features, and I was very anxious to
report it, with perhaps even less delay than I had thought judicious in
other cases; but Hewitt restrained me.
"No, Brett," he said, "there is more to come of this. This particular
case is over, it is true, but there is much behind. I've an idea that I
shall see that Red Triangle again. I may, or, of course, I may not; but
there is deep work going on--very deep work, and whether we see more of
it or not, I must keep prepared. I can't afford to throw a single card
upon the table. So, as many notes as you please, Brett, for future
reference; but no publication yet--none of your journalism!"
Hewitt was right. It was not so long before we heard more of the Red
Triangle, and after that more, though the true connection of some of the
cases with the mysterious symbol and the meaning of the symbol itself
remained for a time undiscovered. But at last Hewitt was able to unmask
the hideous secret, and for ever put an end to the evil influence that
gathered about the sign; and now there remains no reason why the full
story should not be told.
I have told elsewhere of my first acquaintance with Martin Hewitt, of
his pleasant and companionable nature, his ordinary height, his
stoutness, his round, smiling face--those characteristics that aided him
so well in his business of investigator, so unlike was his appearance
and manner to that of the private detective of the ordinary person's
imagination. Therefore I need only remind my readers that my bachelor
chambers were, during most of my acquaintance with Hewitt, in the old
building near the Strand, in which Hewitt's office stood at the top of
the first flight of stairs; where the plain ground-glass of the door
bore as inscription the single word "Hewitt," and the sharp lad,
Kerrett, first received visitors in the outer office.
Next door to this old house, at the time I am to speak of, a much newer
building stood, especially built for letting out in offices. It happened
that one day as Hewitt left his office for a late lunch, he became aware
of a pallid and agitated Jew who was pervading the front door of this
adjoining building. The man exhibited every sign of nervous expectancy,
staring this way and that up and down the busy street, and once or twice
rushing aimlessly half-way up the inner stairs, and as often returning
to the door. Apprehension was plain on his pale face, and he was clearly
in a state that blinded his attention to the ordinary matters about him,
just as happens when a man is in momentary and nervous expectation of
some serious event.
Noting these things as he passed, with no more than the observation that
was his professional habit, Hewitt proceeded to his lunch. This done
with, he returned to his office, perceiving, as he passed the next-door
building, that the distracted Jew was no longer visible. It seemed plain
that the person or the event he had awaited with such obvious
nervousness had arrived and passed; one more of the problems, anxieties
or crises that join and unravel moment by moment in the human ant-hill
of London, had perhaps closed for good or ill within the past half-hour;
perhaps it had only begun.
A message awaited Hewitt at his office--an urgent message. The
housekeeper had come in from next door, Kerrett reported, with an urgent
request that Mr. Martin Hewitt would go immediately to the offices of
Mr. Denson, on the third floor. The housekeeper seemed to know little or
nothing of the business, except that a Mr. Samuel was alone in Mr.
Denson's office, and had sent the message.
With no delay Hewitt transferred himself to the next-door offices. There
the housekeeper, who inhabited a uniform and a glass box opposite the
foot of the first flight of stairs, directed Hewitt, with the remark
that the gentleman was very impatient and very much upset. "Third floor,
sir, second door on the right; name Denson on the door. There's no
lift."
"W.F. Denson" was the complete name, followed by the line "Foreign and
Commission Agent." This Hewitt read with some little difficulty, for the
door was open, and on the threshold stood that same agitated Jew whom
Hewitt had seen at the front door.
A little less actively perturbed now, he was nevertheless still
nervously pale. "Mr. Martin Hewitt?" he cried, while Hewitt was still
only at the head of the stairs. "Is it Mr. Martin Hewitt?"
Hewitt came quietly along the corridor, using eyes and ears as he came.
The Jew was a man of middle height, very obviously Jewish, and with a
slight accent that hinted a Continental origin.
"I have just received your message," Hewitt said, "and, as you see, I am
here with no delay. Is Mr. Denson in?"
"No--good heafens no--I would gif anything if he was, Mr. Hewitt. Come
in, do! I haf been robbed--robbed by Denson himself, wit'out a wort of
doubt. It is terrible--terrible! Fifteen t'ousant pounds! It ruins me,
Mr. Hewitt, ruins me! Unless you can recover it! If you recover it, I
will pay--pay--oh, I will pay fery well indeed!"
There was a characteristically sudden moderation of the client's
emphasis when he came to the engagement to pay. Hewitt had observed it
in other clients, but it did not disturb him.
"First," he said, "you must tell me your difficulty. You say you have
been robbed of fifteen thousand pounds----"
"Tiamonts, Mr. Hewitt--tiamonts! All from the case--here is the case,
empty----"
"Let us be methodical. We will shut the door and sit down." Hewitt
pressed his client into a chair and produced his note-book. "It will be
better to begin at the beginning. First, I should like to know your
name, and a few such particulars as that."
"Lewis Samuel, Hatton Garden--150, Hatton Garden--tiamont merchant."
"Yes. And what is your connection with Mr. Denson?"
"Business--just business," Samuel responded. He pronounced it
"pishness," and it seemed his favourite word. "Like this; I will tell
you. I haf known him some time, and did at first small pishness. He
bought a little tiamont and haf it set in pracelet, and he
pay--straightforward pishness. Then he bought some very good paste
stones, all set in gold, and he pay--quite straightforward pishness. At
the same time he says, 'I am pishness man myself, Mr. Samuel,' he says,
'and I like to make a little moneys as well as pay out sometimes. Don't
you want any little agencies done? I do all foreign commissions, and I
can forwart and receive and clear at dock and custom house. If you send
any tiamonts I can consign and insure--very cheapest rates to you,
special. If you want brokerage or buy and sell for you, confidential, I
can do it with lowest commission. Especially I haf good connection with
America. I haf many rich Americans, principals and customers,' he says,
'and often I could do pishness for you when they come over.'"
"By which he meant he might sell them diamonds?" Hewitt queried.
"Just so, Mr. Hewitt--reg'lar pishness. And after that two or three
little parcels of tiamonts he bought--for American customers, he says.
But he says he can do bigger pishness soon. Ay, so he has--goot heavens,
he has! But I tell you. I do also one or two small pishnesses with him,
and that is all right--he treat me very well and I pay when it suits.
Then he says, 'Samuel,' he says, very friendly now inteet, 'Samuel,
could you get a nice large lot of tiamonts for an American customer I
expect here soon?' And I say, 'Of course I can.' 'Enough,' he says, 'to
fit out a rich man's wife--that is, to pegin. He is not long rich, and
he will want more soon--ah, she will make him pay! But to pegin--a good
fit-out of tiamonts, eh?'
"I tell him yes, and I offer usual commission. But no, says Denson, he
wants no commission; he will make his own profit. That I don't mind so
long as I get mine; so I agree to put the tiamonts in at a price. The
American, he says, is to come over about a big company deal, and when it
is through he will pay well. So last week I pring a peautiful
collection all cut but unset, and I wait out in that room while Denson
shows them to his customer."
"You mean you let them out of your sight?"
"Yes--that is not so uncommon; reg'lar pishness. You see I was out
here--this is the only way out. Denson was in the inner office with the
stones and the American. Neither could get out without passing here. And
I had done pishness with him alretty."
"Well?"
"You see I wait downstairs with my case--this case--till Denson sends
down. He doesn't want me to show--fery natural, you see, in pishness.
When I sell to make a profit, perhaps for somebody else, I don't want
that somebody to know my customer, else he sells direct and I lose my
profit--fery natural. See?"
"Of course, I understand. It's a point of business among you gentlemen
to keep your own customers to yourselves. And often, no doubt, diamonds
pass through several hands before reaching the eventual customer,
leaving a profit in each."
"Always, Mr. Hewitt--always, you might say. Well, you see, Denson sends
down that his customer is in, and I come up. Denson comes out from the
inner office, takes my case, and I wait in there."
The case which Samuel showed Hewitt was of black leather, perhaps
eighteen inches long by a foot wide. The arrangement of the office was
simple. In this, the outer room, a small space was partitioned off by
means of a ground glass screen, and it was in there that Samuel meant
that he had waited.
"Well, he took the case in, and I could hear some sound of talking--but
not much, you see, the door being shut. After a time the door opens and
I hear Denson say: 'Very well, think over it; but don't be long or
you'll lose the chance. Excuse me while I put them back in the safe.'
Then he shuts the door and brings the case to me and goes back. But of
course I stay till I haf looked very carefully through all the tiamonts,
in the different compartments of the case, in case one might haf dropped
on the floor, or got changed, you know. That is pishness."
"Just so. And they were all right?"
"All right and same as the list--I know well a tiamont that I haf seen
once. So I go away, and afterwards Denson tells me that the American
liked much the stones but wouldn't quite come up to price. That, of
course, is fery usual pishness. 'But he will rise, Samuel,' Denson says.
'I know him quite well, and them tiamonts is as good as sold with a
good profit for me; and a good one for you, too, I bet,' he says. I was
putting the lot to him for fifteen t'ousant pounds, and it would have
been a nice profit in that for me. And then Denson he chaffs me and he
says, 'Ah! Samuel,' he says, 'wasn't you afraid my customer and me would
hook it out o' the window with all your stones?' I don't like that sort
o' joke in pishness, you see, but I say, 'All right--I wasn't afraid o'
that. The window was a mile too high, and besides I could see it from
where I was a-sitting.' And so I could, you see, plain enough to see if
it was opened."
The ground-glass partition, in fact, cut off a part of the window of the
outer office, which, being at an angle with the inner room, gave a side
view of the window that lighted that apartment.
"Denson laughed at that," Samuel went on. "'Ha-ha!' says he, 'I never
thought of that. Then you could see the American's hat hanging up just
by the window--rum hat, ain't it?' And that was quite true, for I had
noticed it--a big, grey wideawake, almost white."
Hewitt nodded approvingly. "You are quite right," he said, "to tell me
everything you recollect, even of the most trivial sort; the smallest
thing may be very valuable. So you took your diamonds away the first
time, last week. What next?"
"Well, I came again, just the same, to-day, by appointment. Just the
same I sat in that place, and just the same Denson took the case into
the inner room. 'He's come to buy this time, I can see,' Denson whispers,
and winks. 'But he'll fight hard over the price. We'll see!' and off he
goes into the other room. Well, I waited. I waited and I waited a long
time. I looked out sideways at the window, and there I see the
American's big wideawake hat hanging up just inside the other window,
same as last time. So I think they are a long time settling the price,
and I wait some more. But it is such a very long time, and I begin to
feel uneasy. Of course, I know you cannot sell fifteen t'ousant wort' of
tiamonts in five minutes--that is not reasonable pishness. But I could
hear nothing at all now--not a sound. And the boy--the boy that came
down to call me up--he wasn't come back. But there I could see the big
wideawake hat still hanging inside the window, and of course I knew
there was only one door out of the inner room, right before me, so it
seemed foolish to be uneasy. So I waited longer still, but now it was so
late, I thought they should have come out to lunch before this, and then
I was fery uneasy--fery uneasy inteet. So I thought I would pretend to
be a new caller, and I opened the outer office door and banged it, and
walked in very loud and knocked on the boy's table. I thought Denson
would come when he heard that, but no--there was not a sound. So I got
more uneasy, and I opened the window and leaned out as far as I could,
to look in at the other window. There I could see nothing but the big
hat and the back of a chair and a bit of the room--empty. So I went and
banged the outer door again, and called out, 'Hi! Mr. Denson, you're
wanted! Hi! d'y'ear?' and knocked with my umbrella on the inner door;
and, Mr. Hewitt--you might have knocked me down with half a feather when
I got no answer at all--not a sound! I opened the door, Mr. Hewitt, and
there was nobody there--nobody! There was my leather case on the table,
open--and empty! Fifteen t'ousant pounds in tiamonts, Mr. Hewitt--it
ruins me!"
Hewitt rose, and flung wide the inner office door. "This is certainly
the only door," he said, "and that is the only window--quite well in
view from where you sat. There is the wideawake hat still hanging
there--see, it is quite new; obviously brought for you to look at, it
would seem. The door and the window were not used, and the chimney is
impossible--register grate. But there was one other way--there."
The inner wall of each of the rooms was the wall of the corridor into
which all the offices opened, and this corridor was lighted--and the
offices partly ventilated--by a sort of hinged casement or fanlight
close up by the ceiling, oblong, and extending the most of the length of
each room. Plainly an active man, not too stout, might mount a
chair-back, and climb very quietly through the opening. "That's the only
way," said Hewitt, pointing.
"Yes," answered Samuel, nodding and rubbing his knuckles together
nervously. "I saw it--saw it when it was too late. But who'd have
thought o' such a thing beforehand? And the American--either there
wasn't an American at all, or he got out the same way. But, anyway, here
I am, and the tiamonts are gone, and there is nothing here but the
furniture--not worth twenty pound!"
"Well," Hewitt said, "so far, I think I understand, though I may have
questions to ask presently. But go on."
"Go on? But there is no more, Mr. Hewitt! Quite enough, don't you think?
There is no more--I am robbed!"
"But when you found the empty room, and the case, what did you do? Send
for the police?"
The Jew's face clouded slightly. "No, Mr. Hewitt," he said, "not for the
police, but for you. Reason plain enough. The police make a great fuss,
and they want to arrest the criminal. Quite right--I want to arrest him,
and punish him too, plenty. But most I want the tiamonts back, because
if not it ruins me. If it was to make choice between two things for me,
whether to punish Denson or get my tiamonts, then of course I take the
tiamonts, and let Denson go--I cannot be ruined. But with the police, if
it is their choice, they catch the thief first, and hold him tight,
whether it loses the property or not; the property is only second with
them--with me it is first and second, and all. So I take no more risks
than I can help, Mr. Hewitt. I have sent for you to get first the
stones--afterwards the thief if you can. But first my property; you can
perhaps find Denson and make him give it up rather than go to prison.
That would be better than having him taken and imprisoned, and perhaps
the stones put away safe all the time ready for him when he came out."
"Still, the police can do things that I can't," Hewitt interposed; "stop
people leaving or landing at ports, and the like. I think we should see
them."
Samuel was anxiously emphatic. "No, Mr. Hewitt," he said, "certainly not
the police. There are reasons--no, _not_ the police, Mr. Hewitt, at any
rate, not till you have tried. I cannot haf the police--just yet."
Martin Hewitt shrugged his shoulders. "Very well," he said, "if those
are your instructions, I'll do my best. And so you sent for me at once,
as soon as you discovered the loss?"
"Yes, at once."
"Without telling anybody else?"
"I haf tolt nobody."
"Did you look about anywhere for Denson--in the street, or what not?"
"No--what was the good? He was gone; there was time for him to go
miles."
"Very good. And speaking of time, let me judge how far he may have gone.
How long were you kept waiting?"
"Two hours and a quarter, very near--within five minutes."
"By your watch?"
"Yes--I looked often, to see if it was so long waiting as it seemed."
"Very good. Do you happen to have a piece of Denson's writing about
you?"
Samuel looked round him. "There's nothing about here," he said, "but
perhaps we can find--oh here--here's a post-card." He took the card from
his pocket, and gave it to Hewitt.
"There is nothing else to tell me, then?" queried Hewitt. "Are you sure
that you have forgotten nothing that has happened since you first
arrived--_nothing at all_?" There was meaning in the emphasis, and a
sharp look in Hewitt's eyes.
"No, Mr. Hewitt," Samuel answered, hastily; "there is nothing else I can
tell you."
"Then I will think it over at once. You had better go back quietly to
your office, and think it over yourself, _in case_ you have forgotten
something; and I need hardly warn you to keep quiet as to what has
passed between us--unless you tell the police. I think I shall take the
liberty of a glance over Mr. Denson's office, and since his office boy
still stays away, I will lend him my clerk for a little. He will keep
his eyes open if any callers come, and his ears too. Wait while I fetch
him."