THE EMPTY HOUSE
There was just enough moonlight for Phillips' purpose, but not enough to
render his task dangerous. Fielden asked no questions, partly because he
deemed it would be useless, and partly because he did not wish to spoil
what appeared to have in it the making of a dramatic adventure. His
spirits were rising, and he was looking forward keenly to something in
the way of enterprise. He and Phillips had been in more than one tight
place together, and he had every confidence in his companion.
They made their way along the main street in silence, and came presently
to the deserted racecourse. There was very little evidence of the
afternoon's sport, nothing but a few partially dismantled tents and
booths, and the extraordinary remnants of reeking humanity that always
haunt a race meeting.
They went across the heath, and by and by Phillips pulled up in front of
the avenue to The Nook.
"This is the place," he said quietly.
"Oh, is it?" Fielden asked. "Perhaps you had better tell me before we go
farther who lives here."
"That is precisely what we've come to find out," Phillips said coolly.
"I've got a pretty shrewd notion, but that isn't good enough for me.
I've told you that there's a gang of clever swindlers in England who
have put their heads together to rob the betting ring of an enormous sum
of money. Operations began last autumn, but the flat-racing was nearly
finished, so that they did not make quite such a haul as they had
anticipated. Still, they made enough to keep themselves in luxury all
the winter and to find the necessary funds for carrying on the campaign
in the spring. It is a big combine, and unless something is done to stop
it, these people will make colossal fortunes. Mind you, one or two of
the large bookmakers have a suspicion, but up to now they haven't been
able to prove anything. Indeed, without egotism, I may say they would be
powerless without me. I got some vague idea of the scheme three years
ago from a man who is now dead. Then when racing began again this year I
fancied I could see a trace of the same idea in this business. I knew I
was right when I discovered that Copley was operating on a large scale.
I lunched at the Post Club with a member who gave me an introduction to
Rickerby, the financial agent. You remember him?"
"I ought to," Fielden said drily. "Goodness knows, his firm had enough
of my money. But go on."
"Well, I pumped Rickerby. I don't mind telling you that I went to the
Post Club on purpose. He has been pretty hard hit. He believes he has
been the victim of a swindle, and he is right, though it was no part of
my policy at the time to tell him so. He can't very well refuse to take
big bets, even when he feels there is something underhand going on. Only
a short time ago he was hit for some thousands of pounds by one of the
gang, and, moreover, had to pay the money."
"This sounds very interesting," Fielden said, "but what has it to do
with our present adventure?"
"Oh, I am coming to that," Phillips went on quietly. "You see, these
bets are always made in the same way. One of the conspirators, who is
actually a member of the Post Club, strolls into the smoking-room some
five or six minutes before--well, we'll say before the three o'clock
race. He hangs about till the horses are about finishing and then, in
the most casual way in the world, makes a bet. Now, mind you, this bet
is booked before the race is finished, as a careful comparison of the
time shows. Yet the horse has won, and the man in the smoking-room of
the Post Club knows it before the judge has given his decision."
"Impossible," Fielden exclaimed.
"I know it seems impossible, and twenty years ago you would have said
the telephone was impossible, and people would have scouted the idea of
wireless telegraphy. But they both came, like the phonograph and other
wonders."
"Oh, that's all very well," Fielden smiled. "But you are not going to
ask me to believe that this thing is done by thought-reading or anything
of that sort? You won't tell me that this famous member of the Post Club
is a clairvoyant who sees the race finished while it is being run?
Because, if that were the case, the favoured person would have no need
of a syndicate to help him; he would do it all by himself."
"I am not suggesting anything of the kind," Phillips said. "There's
nothing occult about the business. The thing is capable of explanation,
and I am in a position to give it, except for the finishing touches,
which make this dodge almost a work of genius. I know who is at the
bottom of it, I know who is working it, and I know how the information
is conveyed to within a few feet of the tape machines in the Post Club.
But how that information is filtered to the man inside is the thing that
beats me at present. But so much I have found out. In the very next
office to the smoking-room of the Post Club is a firm who call
themselves Jolly & Co. Now Jolly & Co. only took their office last
September or October. There is not the slightest sign of any business
being done there, because I have been in the office myself. Taken in
conjunction with what I have told you, it must strike you as an odd
thing that this mysterious Jolly & Co. shut up the office and went
abroad last year after the flat-racing was over. Probably Jolly & Co.
went off to make a bit in the Riviera, or Egypt, or some other
fashionable resort where fools and money congregate. It is an odd thing
that during the January meeting at Mirst Park Jolly & Co. should turn up
again and resume operations in Covent Garden. Now I called to see Mr.
Jolly. He had left his office, but I guessed that before I called, or I
shouldn't have ventured. The first thing I saw was a telephone with an
unusually long flex to it. I don't quite understand why this flex is so
long, but I can make a shrewd guess. It cost me an hour or two and
plenty of hard thinking to get farther in my investigations, but I found
late in the evening that Jolly & Co.'s telephone was a private wire
leading from Covent Garden to his residence at Mirst Park. Now do you
begin to understand?"
Fielden shook his head.
"It begins to smell suspicious," he said. "I am bound to confess it
looks very like a deep-laid conspiracy. But I must confess myself too
dense to follow it."
"Oh, it requires explanation. But luck favoured me in my investigations,
and I managed to pick up a good many unlooked for clues. Still, the
fact remains that from this house here to an office next door to the
Post Club there is a private telephone. Now a child would admit that no
one would have a private telephone from here to an office in London, at
a cost of something like a hundred and fifty pounds a year, merely for
the sake of sending domestic messages. I came here to have a good look
at The Nook, as this house is called, and I found, not altogether
unexpectedly, that nobody was living here. I was told by a gardener that
the tenant had not yet taken possession, though it has been furnished
for some time. I had rung the bell a few times, and when the man came
professed I had called to see some one who used to live here.
Considering that it is supposed to be a fully-furnished house, that bell
made a great deal of noise. I am ready to bet that the house is
practically empty. At any rate, I have come here to find out for myself,
and as I believe there is nobody on the premises our task ought not to
be difficult."
"I don't like it," Fielden said. "It smells very much like burglary, and
if we were discovered we should find some difficulty in giving an
explanation which would satisfy the police. Isn't there any other way?"
Phillips waved the suggestion aside impatiently.
"You can go back if you like, sir," he said. "As for me, I will see this
thing through. We might never have such an opportunity again. And,
besides, I want to have a look at that telephone. I think we shall find
something that will open our eyes. I am not in a position actually to
prove it, but I am convinced that Jolly & Co. will be found to be part
and parcel of Copley and Foster. Now you understand why I am so anxious
to enter the house. Still, if you prefer to remain outside and leave the
matter to me----"
"Oh, no," Fielden said hastily. "Having come so far I won't turn back. I
am taking it that you are correct in thinking the house is empty."
"Of course it is, there is no question about that. The gardener told me
so, and I see no reason to doubt his statement. I wouldn't miss this
chance for anything. Even if I get nothing out of it, I should like to
know how this swindle is being worked. But come along, we are wasting
time. There is enough moonlight to help us without using lights, which
is so far fortunate. It may be a little awkward for you, connected as
you are with Copley, but it is all in the game."
"Lead on," Fielden said curtly.
They turned into the avenue and came presently to the front of the
house. Somebody had evidently been in since Phillips' visit, for all the
blinds had been pulled down. Then they walked cautiously round, looking
for a weak spot where they could effect an entrance.