THE SILK CAP
I glanced round; Lorrimore, after an inspection of the dead men, had
walked aside with the lieutenant and was in close conversation with
him. I, too, drew the detective away to the side of the yawl.
"Scarterfield," I said in a whisper, "I've grounds for believing that
the fourth Chinaman is--Lorrimore's servant--Wing."
"What!" he exclaimed. "The man we saw at Ravensdene Court?"
"Just so," said I, "and who went off to London, you remember, to see
what he could do in the way of discovering the other Chinaman, Lo Chuh
Fen."
"Yes--I remember that," he answered.
"There is Lo Chuh Fen," I said, pointing to one of the silent figures.
"And I think that Wing not only discovered him, but came aboard this
vessel with him, as part of a crew which Baxter and his French friend
got together at Limehouse or Poplar. As I say, I've grounds for
thinking it."
Scarterfield looked round, glanced at the shore, shook his head.
"I'm all in the dark--about some things," he said.
"I got on the track of this craft--I'll tell you how, later--and found
she'd come up this coast, and we got the authorities to send this
destroyer after her--I came with her, hell for leather, I can tell
you, from Harwich. But I don't know a lot that I want to know, Baxter,
now--you're sure that man lying dead there is the Baxter we heard of
at Blyth and traced to Hull?"
"Certain!" said I. "Listen, and I'll give you a brief account of
what's happened since yesterday, and of what I've learned since
then--it will make things clear to you."
Standing there, where the beauty of the fresh morning and the charm of
sky and sea made a striking contrast to the horror of our immediate
surroundings, I told him, as concisely as I could, of how Miss Raven
and myself had fallen into the hands of Netherfield Baxter and the
Frenchman, of what had happened to me on board, and, at somewhat
greater length, of Baxter's story of his own career as it related to
his share in the theft of the monastic treasure from the bank at
Blyth, his connection with the _Elizabeth Robinson_ and his knowledge
of the brothers Quick. Nor did I forget Baxter's theory about the
rubies--and at that Scarterfield obviously pricked his ears.
"Now there's something in that," he said, with a regretful glance at
the place where Baxter's dead body lay under its sheet. "I wish that
fellow had been alive, to tell more! For he's right about those
rubies--quite right. The Quicks had 'em--two of 'em."
"You know that?" I exclaimed.
"I'll tell you," he answered. "After we parted, I was very busy,
investigating matters still further in Devonport and in London.
And--through the newspapers, of course--I got in touch with a man who
told me a lot. He came to headquarters in London, asking for me--wouldn't
tell any of our people there anything--it was a day or two before I got at
close quarters with him, for when he called I was away at the time. He
left an address, in Hatton Garden--a Mr. Isidore Baubenheimer, dealer, as
you may conclude, in precious stones. Well, I drove off at once to see
him. He told me a queer tale. He said that he'd only just come back from
Amsterdam and Paris, or he'd have been in communication with me earlier.
While he'd been away, he said, he'd read the English newspapers and seen a
good deal about the two murders at Saltash and Ravensdene Court, and he
believed that he could throw some light on them, for he felt sure that
either Noah Quick or Salter Quick was identical with a man with whom he
had not so long ago talked over the question of the value of certain
stones which the man possessed. But I'll show you Baubenheimer's own
words--I got him to make a clear statement of the whole thing and had it
taken down in black and white, and I have a typed copy of it in my
pocket-book--glance it over for yourself."
He produced a sheet of paper, folded and endorsed and handed it to
me--it ran thus:
My place of business in Hatton Garden is a few doors away from the
Hatton Garden entrance to the old Mitre Tavern, which lies between
that street and Ely Place. On, as far as I can remember, the seventh
or eighth of March last, I went into the Mitre about half-past eleven
o'clock one morning, expecting to meet a friend of mine who was often
there about that time. He hadn't come in--I sat down with a drink and
a cigar to wait for him.
In the little room where I sat there were three other men--two of them
were men that I knew, men who dealt in diamonds in a smallish way. The
other was a stranger, a thick-set, middle-aged, seafaring sort of man,
hard-bitten, dressed in a blue-serge suit of nautical cut; I could
tell from his hands and his general appearance that he'd knocked about
the world in his time. Just then he was smoking a cigar and had a
tumbler of rum and water before him, and he was watching, with a good
deal of interest, the other two, who, close by, were showing each
other a quantity of loose diamonds which, evidently to the seafaring
man's amazement, they spread out openly, on their palms.
After a bit they got up and went out, and the stranger glanced at me.
Now I am, as you see, something of the nautical sort myself, bearded
and bronzed and all that--I'm continually crossing the North Sea--and
it may be he thought I was of his own occupation--anyway, he looked at
me as if wanting to talk.
"I reckon they think nothing of pulling out a fistful o' them things
hereabouts, mister," he said. "No more to them than sovereigns and
half-sovereigns and bank-notes is to bank clerks."
"That's about it," said I. "You'll see them shown in the open street
outside."
"Trade of this part of London, isn't it?" he asked.
"Just so," said I. "I'm in it myself." He gave me a sharp inquiring
look at that.
"Ah!" he remarked. "Then you'll be a gentleman as knows the vally of a
thing o' that sort when you sees it?"
"Well I think so," I answered. "I've been in the trade all my life.
Have you got anything to dispose of? I see you're a seafaring man, and
I've known sailors who brought something nice home now and then."
"Same here," said he; "but I never known a man as brought anything
half as good as what I have."
"Ah!" said I. "Then you have something?"
"That's what I come into this here neighbourhood for, this morning,"
he answered. "I have something, and a friend o' mine, says he to me,
'Hatton Garden,' he says, 'is the port for you--they eats and drinks
and wallers in them sort o' things down that way,' he says.
"So I steers for this here; only, I don't know no fish, d'ye see, as I
could put the question to what I wants to ask."
"Put it to me," said I, drawing out my card-case. "There's my card,
and you can ask anybody within half a square mile if they don't know
me for a trustworthy man. What is it you've got?" I went on, never
dreaming that he'd got anything at all of any great value. "I'll give
you an idea of its worth in two minutes."
But he glanced round at the door and shook his head.
"Not here, mister!" he said. "I wouldn't let the light o' day shine on
what I got in a public place like this, not nohow. But," he added, "I
see you've a office and all that. I ain't undisposed to go there with
you, if you like--you seem a honest man."
"Come on then," I said. "My office is just round the corner, and
though I've clerks in it, we'll be private enough there."
"Right you are, mister," he answered, and he drank off his rum and we
went out and round to my office.
I took him into my private room--I had a young lady clerk in there
(she'd remember this man well enough) and he looked at her and then at
me.
"Send the girl away," he muttered. "There's a matter of
undressing--d'ye see?--in getting at what I want to show you."
I sent her out of the room, and sat down at my desk. He took off his
overcoat, his coat, and his waistcoat, shoved his hand into some
secret receptacle that seemed to be hidden in the band of his
trousers, somewhere behind the small of his back, and after some
acrobatic contortions and twistings, lugged out a sort of canvas
parcel, the folds of which he unwrapped leisurely. And suddenly,
coming close to me, he laid the canvas down on my blotting-pad and I
found myself staring at some dozen or so of the most magnificent
pearls I ever set eyes on and a couple of rubies which I knew to be
priceless. I was never more astonished in my life, but he was as cool
as a cucumber.
"What d'ye think o' that lot, mister?" he asked. "I reckon you don't
see a little lot o' that quality every day."
"No, my friend," said I, "nor every year, either, nor every ten years.
Where on earth did you get them--"
"Away East," said he, "and I've had 'em some time, not being
particular about selling 'em, but I've settled down in England now,
and I think I will sell 'em and buy house-property with the money.
What do you fix their vally at, now, mister--thereabouts, anyway?"
"Good heavens, man!" I said. "They're worth a great deal of money--a
great deal."
"I'm very well aware o' that, mister," he answered. "Very well aware
indeed--nobody better. I seen a deal o' things in my time, and I ain't
no fool."
"You really want to sell them?" I asked.
"If I get the full price," said he. "And that, of course, would be a
big 'un."
"The thing to do," I said, "would be to find somebody who wants to
complete a particularly fine set of pearls--some very rich woman who'd
stick at nothing. The same remark applies to the rubies."
"Maybe you could come across some customer?" he suggested.
"No doubt, in a little time," I answered.
"Well," he said, "I'm going up North--I've a bit o' business that way,
and I reckon I'll be back here in London in a week or so--I'll call in
then, mister, and if you've found anybody that's likely to deal, I'll
show 'em the goods with pleasure."
"You'd better leave them with me, and let me show them to some
possible buyers," I said. But he was already folding up his canvas
wrapping again.
"Guv'nor," he answered, "I can see as how you're a honest man, and I
treats you as such, and so will, but I couldn't have them things out
o' my possession for one minute until I sells 'em. I've a brother,
mister," he added, "as owns a half-share in 'em--d'ye see?--and I
holds myself responsible to him. But now that you've seen 'em guv'nor,
find a buyer or buyers--I'll shove my bows round that door o' yours
again this day week." And with that he restored his treasures to their
hiding-place, assumed his garments once more, and remarking that he
had a train to catch, hastened off, again assuring me that he would
call in a week, on his return from the North.
It was not until he had been gone several minutes that I remembered
that I had forgotten to ask his name. I certainly expected him to be
back at the end of the week--but he didn't come, and just then I had
to go away. Now I take him to have been the man, Salter Quick, who was
murdered on the Northumberland coast--no doubt for the sake of those
jewels. As for their value, I estimated it, from my cursory
examination of them, to have been certainly not less than eighty
thousand pounds.
I folded up the statement and restored it to Scarterfield.
"What do you think of that?" he asked.
"Salter Quick, without a doubt," I answered. "It corroborates Baxter's
story of the rubies. He didn't mention any pearls. And I think now,
Scarterfield, that Salter Quick's murder lies at the door of--one of
those Chinamen who in their turn are lying dead before us!"
"Well, and that's what I think," said he. "Though however a Chinaman
could be about this coast without the local police learning something
of it at the time they were inquiring into the murder beats me.
However, there it is!--I feel sure of it. And I was going to tell
you--I got wind of this yawl down Limehouse way--I found out that
she'd been in the Thames, and that her owner had enlisted a small crew
of Chinamen and gone away with them, and I found out further that
she'd been seen off the Norfolk coast, going north, so then I pitched
a hot and strong story to the authorities about piracy and all manner
of things, and they sent this destroyer in search of Baxter, and me on
her. If we'd only been twelve hours sooner!"
Lorrimore and the lieutenant came up to us.
"My men have the fire completely beaten," said the lieutenant glancing
at Scarterfield. "If you want to look round----"
We began a thorough examination of the yawl, in the endeavour to
reconstruct the affair of the early morning. For there were all the
elements of a strange mystery in that and curiosity about the whole
thing was as strong in me as in Scarterfield. We knew now many things
that we had not known twenty-four hours before--one was that the many
affairs, dark and nefarious, of Netherfield Baxter, had nothing to do
with the murders of Noah and Salter Quick; another that those murders
without doubt arose from the brothers' possession of the pearls and
rubies which Salter had shown to the Hatton Garden diamond merchant.
All things considered it seemed to me that the explanation of the
mystery rested in some such theory as this--the Chinaman, Lo Chuh Fen,
doubtless knew as well as Baxter and his French friend that the
Quicks were in possession of the rubies stolen from the heathen
temple in Southern China; no doubt he had become acquainted with that
fact when the marooned party from the _Elizabeth Robinson_ were on the
intimate terms of men united by a common fate on the lonely island.
Drifting eventually to England, Chuh had probably discovered the
whereabouts of the two brothers, had somehow found that the rubies
were still in their possession, might possibly have been in personal
touch with Salter or with Noah, had taken others of his compatriots,
discovered in the Chinese quarters of the East End into his
confidence, and engineered a secret conspiracy for securing the
valuables. He himself had probably tracked Salter to the lonely bit of
shore near Ravensdene Court; associates of his had no doubt fallen
upon Noah at Saltash. But how had all this led up to the attack of the
Chinese on Baxter and the Frenchman?--and who was the man who, leaving
every other member of the yawl's company dead or dying and who had
exchanged those last shots with Netherfield Baxter, had escaped to the
shore and was now, no doubt, endeavouring to make a final bid for
liberty?
Reckoning up everything we saw, it seemed to me, from my knowledge of
the preceding incidents, that the drug which the Chinese gentleman, as
Baxter had been pleased to style him, had not had the effects that he
desired and anticipated, and that one or other of the two men to whom
it had been administered had been aroused from sleep before any attack
could be made on both. I figured things in this way--Baxter, or the
Frenchman, or both, had awakened and missed the Chinaman. One or both
had turned out to seek him; had discovered that Miss Raven and I were
missing; had scented danger to themselves, found the Chinese up to
some game, and opened fire on them. Evidently the first fighting--as I
had gathered from the revolver shots--had been sharp and decisive; I
formed the conclusion that when it was over there were only two men
left alive, of whom one was Baxter and the other the man whom we had
seen escaping in the boat. Baxter, I believed, had put up some sort of
barricade and watched his enemy from it; that he himself was already
seriously wounded I gathered from two facts--one that his body had
several superficial wounds on arms and shoulders, and that in the
cabin behind the hastily-constructed barricade, sheets had been torn
into strips for bandages which we found on these wounds, where, as far
as he could, he had roughly twisted them. Then, according to my
thinking, he had eventually seen the other survivor, who was probably
in like case with himself as regards superficial wounds, endeavouring
to make off, and emerging from his shelter had fired on him from the
side of the yawl, only to be killed himself by return fire. There was
no mistaking the effect of that last shot--chance shot or
well-directed aim it had done for Netherfield Baxter, and he had
crumpled up and died where he dropped.
A significant exclamation from Scarterfield called me to his side--he,
aided by one of the blue-jackets, was examining the body of Lo Chuh
Fen.
"Look here!" he murmured as I went up to him. "This chap has been
searched! After he was dead, I mean. There's a body-belt that he
wore--it's been violently torn from him, his clothing ripped to get
at it, and the belt itself hacked to pieces in the endeavour to
find--something! Whose work has that been!"
"The work of the man who got away in the boat," said I. "Of course!
He's been after those rubies and pearls, Scarterfield."
"We must be after him," he said. "You say you think he was wounded in
getting away?"
"He was certainly wounded," I affirmed. "I saw him fall headlong in
the boat after the first shot; he recovered himself, fired the shot
which no doubt finished Baxter, and must have been wounded again, for
the two men again fired simultaneously, and the man in the boat swayed
at that second shot. But once more he pulled himself together and
rowed away."
"Well, if he's wounded, he can't get far without attracting notice,"
declared Scarterfield. "We'll organize a search for him presently. But
first let's have a look into the quarters that these Chinamen
occupied."
The smoke of the fire--which seemed to have broken out in the
forecastle and had been confined to it by the efforts of the sailors
from the destroyer--had now almost cleared away, and we went forward
to the galley. The fire had not spread to that, and after the scenes
of blood and violence astern and in the cabin the place looked
refreshingly spick and span; there was, indeed, an unusual air of
neatness and cleanliness about it. The various pots and pans shone
gaily in the sun's glittering lights; every utensil was in its place;
evidently the galley's controlling spirit had been a meticulously
careful person who hated disorder as heartily as dirt. And on a shelf
near the stove was laid out what I took to be the things which the
vanished cook, whoever he might be, had destined for breakfast--a
tempting one of kidneys and bacon, soles, eggs, a curry. I gathered
from this, and pointed my conclusion out to Scarterfield, that the
presiding genius of the galley had had no idea of the mutiny into
which he had been plunged soon after midnight.
"Aye!" said Scarterfield. "Just so--I see your point. And--you think
that man of Lorrimore's, Wing, was aboard, and if so, he's the man
who's escaped?"
"I've strong suspicions," said I. "Yet, they were based on a
plum-cake."
"Well, and I've known of worse clues," he rejoined. "But--I wonder?
Now, if only we knew----"
Just then Lorrimore came along, poking his head into the galley. He
suddenly uttered a sharp exclamation and reached an arm to a black
silk cap which hung from a peg on the boarding above the stove.
"That's Wing's!" he said, in emphatic tones. "I saw him make that cap
himself!"