Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 43135-h.htm or 43135-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/43135/pg43135-images.html)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/43135/43135-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
the Google Books Library Project. See
http://www.google.com/books?id=mrAgAAAAMAAJ
THE RIDDLE OF THE PURPLE EMPEROR
[Illustration: "For even as the light streamed out and flung that circle
into that impinging mist, there moved across it the figure of a woman"]
The Scotland Yard Mystery Library
THE RIDDLE OF THE PURPLE EMPEROR
by
MARY E. and THOMAS W. HANSHEW
McKinlay, Stone & Mackenzie
New York
Copyright, 1918 1919, by
Doubleday, Page & Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Which Introduces a New Friend 3
II. The Home-Coming 16
III. In the Dark 27
IV. The House of Shadows 38
V. The Threads of Chance 51
VI. The Cry in the Night 62
VII. In the Tiger's Clutches 78
VIII. Complications and Complexities 90
IX. The House with the Shuttered Windows 101
X. A Shot in the Dark 111
XI. A Terrible Discovery 120
XII. The Woman in the Case 130
XIII. Tightening the Strands 142
XIV. The Plot Thickens 159
XV. Tangled Threads 175
XVI. In the Doctor's Surgery 185
XVII. Miss Cheyne Again 195
XVIII. Dollops Takes a Hand 203
XIX. The Twin Scarves 217
XX. A Twisted Clue 230
XXI. "'Tis a Mad World, My Masters" 240
XXII. The Trap 255
XXIII. Untwisting the Threads 267
XXIV. An Unexpected Contretemps 282
XXV. "A Tale Unfolded" 294
CHARACTERS
HAMILTON CLEEK, the Man of Forty Faces, and once known to the
police as "The Vanishing Cracksman."
SUPERINTENDENT NARKOM, of Scotland Yard.
LENNARD, his chauffeur.
HAMMOND } Detective Sergeants.
PETRIE }
CONSTABLE ROBERTS, Police Officer at Hampton Village.
DOLLOPS, Cleek's trusted friend and protégé.
LADY MARGARET CHEYNE, the only and orphan daughter of
LORD CHEYNE, whose title became extinct on his death, some years
previous, but by his will he has left her all the family jewels,
including the ill-fated
PURPLE EMPEROR, a big violet-coloured diamond looted from an
Indian temple, and set as a pendant. She comes of age at 18, until
when she is left in the charge of his eccentric sister,
THE HONOURABLE MISS CHEYNE, a recluse, living in a lonely house,
Cheyne Court, on the banks of the Thames. She has kept her niece
at the convent of Notre Dame in Paris, since her childhood.
Disappointed in love herself, Miss Cheyne has decided that her
niece shall be a spinster also, but Lady Margaret has contrived to
meet and fall in love with
SIR EDGAR BRENTON, the son of the man who jilted the Honourable
Miss Cheyne, and whose chance visit to Paris with his mother, a
year earlier, led to his acquaintanceship with Lady Margaret, and
with whom he is deeply in love. Unfortunately he is also loved by
JENNIFER WYNNE, the orphan daughter of a doctor who lived in
Hampton previous to the present one. She earns a living by
teaching, and lives with her brother,
BOBBY WYNNE, a young spendthrift and gambler, in the power of
JAMES BLAKE, the head of the Pentacle Club.
DOCTOR VERRALL, the village doctor, loves Miss Wynne.
THE RIDDLE OF THE
PURPLE EMPEROR
CHAPTER I
WHICH INTRODUCES A NEW FRIEND
It was nearly half-past five on a wild March afternoon, in those happy
years before the great war, and Charing Cross Station, struggling in the
throes of that desperate agitation which betokens the arrival of a
boat-train from the continent, was full to overflowing with a
chattering, gesticulating crowd of travellers, all anxious to secure
first place in the graces of that ever-useful personage, the porter.
It was the busiest hour of the day, and everyone seemed to be making the
most of it. What wonder, then, that tempers were grazed, nerves jangled,
and peaceable individuals were transformed into monsters with bellicose
intentions!
In the yard outside the station a medley of motors chug-chugged
unceasingly, crushed in upon each other like closely packed sardines,
and presented to the casual individual a maze of intricacies and noise
from which he could evolve no beginning and no end.
One car, however, somewhat conspicuous as to colour, stood out amongst
the drab hues of the others, like a poppy in a cornfield. It was the red
limousine of Mr. Maverick Narkom, Superintendent of Scotland Yard and
the car in which that gentleman was wont to take his numerous voyages
abroad.
But, at the moment, Mr. Narkom was not occupying its roomy interior. It
was a youth who sat at the steering-wheel and he was staring with
anxious eyes out of his drab, cockney countenance, glancing from side to
side at the hurrying throng which streamed from the station as though he
were expecting every minute to see the King himself stride from it.
But it was no King he waited for--rather, indeed, a Queen--the Queen of
his beloved master's heart, and as he sat there staring about him, he
became conscious of a queer, gnawing pain somewhere in the region of his
stomach. The knowledge of the very excellent tea he had missed, by
reason of this endless waiting, swept over him in an overwhelming tide.
"Lor' Lumme," ejaculated he as the time sped on and she for whom he
watched came not. "If she don't come by the next train I shall be
redooced to eating of me bloomin' 'at to save me life! I'll be a living
skeleton, I will, with not even as much to chew at as a winkle or a
charcoal biscuit. But the guv'nor, bless 'is 'eart, ain't even 'ad as
much as that! He'll be just fit to bust 'isself in a minute--an'
speakin' of hangels, 'ere he is!"
Here "he" certainly was, the only being in the world who counted to
Dollops, and he looked both tired and depressed.
Under ordinary circumstances one might as well have expected to meet an
uncaged lion in the streets of London, as to come across Hamilton Cleek
wandering up and down in so exposed a place as Charing Cross Station at
any hour of the day, much less when the Paris boat-train was expected.
This train might debouch any number of Maurevanians or French apaches,
all pledged to kill the "Rat of a Cracksman," the "Man of Forty Faces"
who had long ago left their haunts and company for the sake of one fair
woman whose eyes had pierced the depths of his degradation, bidding him
aspire to better things.
And it was for her, his queen among women, that Cleek waited now. That
morning's post had brought a brief scrap of a letter telling him that
she was returning to-day from a long visit to the Baron de Carjorac and
his daughter in Paris. Only a short, friendly note it had been, but
sufficient to cause Cleek to spend his day at the station, not knowing
by which train she would arrive. It was little wonder, therefore, that
at half-past five Dollops was growing desperate.
A whistle shrilled. There was the sudden excited clamour of many voices
and the boat-train, late and overcrowded, had come in!
Cleek switched on his heel, forged a way through the waiting crowd, and
betook himself to the gates. For a moment only a flow of passengers met
his gaze, when suddenly the sight of a slenderly knit figure made his
heart leap to his mouth. A mist swam in front of his eyes, blurring
their vision momentarily, and he took an exultant step forward. For it
was Ailsa Lorne herself. She gazed at him with a look of glad surprise,
and a swift rush of colour came to the pure oval face which set his
pulses hammering.
"Ailsa----!"
Hand met hand in the warm clasp which there is no mistaking and then
Cleek realized that she was not alone. By her side stood a young girl
not more than eighteen, if looks counted for anything, evidently so
tired and worn with the rigours of the journey that she seemed too dazed
to notice anything or anybody.
Ailsa, thrusting a friendly arm through hers, drew her forward.
"Lady Margaret, this is a very dear friend of mine," she said in her
fresh young voice, "Lieutenant Deland, dear."
No need to tell Cleek that there was some special reason for this
meeting and introduction, for he knew only too well how quick Ailsa
Lorne was to lend a helping hand to any one in trouble, and he
registered a silent vow to do all he could, should occasion demand, for
this tired-looking child.
Then Ailsa spoke again, looking significantly at Cleek.
"We have both been victims of a terrible crossing, and Lady Margaret has
found no one to meet her. She has come from the convent of Notre Dame in
Paris, and has to go all the way to Hampton now."
"Hampton?" Cleek echoed, raising his eyebrows involuntarily, for he knew
Ailsa would go direct to the riverside cottage in that place which she
had made her home.
"Yes, I tell her we are to be near neighbours. So, dear," she turned
again to her companion, who was staring round the station in evident
search of some friendly face, "supposing you let Lieutenant Deland drive
us both together? He will drop me at my home, and put you down at Cheyne
Court."
The girl's eyes lit up with something akin to real pleasure.
"Oh, indeed I will, if you--he--will not mind; I am so worried. I felt
sure Auntie would have come to meet me. It is all so strange----" Her
voice died away as if she were too tired to resist, and the eyes of
Cleek and Ailsa met in significant understanding.
"The limousine is outside," he murmured in a low voice, "and I will run
you down myself if that will suit you."
"Indeed it will," said Ailsa, gratefully, "and I shall just tuck that
poor child into the car, then come and sit in front with you so that we
can talk."
A sudden light came into Cleek's eyes, a sudden smile curved the corners
of his mouth at this proof of Ailsa's trust in him, and he led the way
out of the station.
Outside, Dollops was speedily dismissed to get a long-wished-for meal.
Realizing that his beloved master was happy in his self-appointed task,
he relinquished his place at the wheel, and was speedily lost to sight
in the ever-moving kaleidoscope of the Strand.
Meanwhile, Ailsa, having snugly tucked in her travelling companion on
the seat of the limousine, and seen that she was half asleep, betook
herself to the front seat beside Cleek. And they started on the road
which was to carry him once more nearer crime and disaster than any man
would care to go.
"That poor child!" she said, when the car was humming softly along, and
whisking them out of London. "I watched her have such a pitiful parting
with the nuns at Calais, and afterward, when she was so ill and lonely
on board. I tried to cheer her up. It seems that she has been at Notre
Dame Convent in Paris all her life, except for one stray holiday with a
friend, and now she comes of age next week, and has got to live with a
sour old aunt, an eccentric being who I think must be jealous of the
child's youth and beauty. She will be shut up in Cheyne Court. It's a
dreadful spot, too. I know it well. I have often passed it. I don't
wonder she is dreading it. All the jewels in the world are not worth
imprisonment in such a dreary dungeon as Cheyne Court must be!"
Cleek twitched up an enquiring eyebrow.
"Jewels?" he questioned, musingly. "Hm! Wait one moment. Lady Margaret
Cheyne did you say? Let me see. I don't profess to be a walking Debrett,
but I fancy the name recalls some strange memory. Lord Cheyne
now--didn't he marry Miss Peggy Wynne, known over London as 'the
beautiful Irish girl'? Yes, and she died, too, at the child's birth I
remember. Hm! a heavy inheritance that, a thousand pities she wasn't a
boy---- What's that, dear? Why? Why, the title dies out with her, and
she comes into all the family jewels. I don't wonder you think one can
pay too high a price for jewels, priceless though they be, for if my
memory serves me rightly, these include that ill-fated stone, the Purple
Emperor----" His voice trailed into silence, he sat a moment staring
ahead, and Ailsa forbore to question him.
Then he threw back his shoulders as if thrusting away the sorrow of the
world, and with a tilt of the head, turned again to Ailsa.
"Ah, well, it's so far back that perhaps the fates will be kind," he
said, musingly. "Perhaps you'd like to hear something of the story.
We'll drive slower then. 'The Purple Emperor,' or to give its right
name, the 'Eye of Shiva,' is, as you can guess, an Indian stone, and was
looted from a temple at Benares in the days of the ill-fated Indian
Mutiny. It was brought to England by a member of the Cheyne family--'Mad
Cheyne' I think they called him--and there is a special police chronicle
of the crimes committed by, and at the instigation of, the priests of
the temple in their efforts to get it back into their possession again.
I expect they have given it up now, for last thing I heard of that
historic stone was that it was embedded in a concrete safe in the Bank
of England."
Ailsa's face had become very pale while he was speaking, and as he
paused she gave a little shiver.
"Poor child!" she murmured. "I don't believe the priests have forgotten.
At least, two Hindoos were on board the boat, and both tried to scrape
acquaintance with her. And I never knew! I never thought. As a matter of
fact, I am not sure that one did not achieve his object, for at night
while I was resting one of them approached her and won her confidence by
telling her that he knew her father, an old friend----"
"An old _trick_ rather," interposed Cleek quietly, "and one that has
opened the door to wiser heads than that tired child's. If the wind sits
in that quarter she will have a hard struggle, and will be well advised
to leave the 'Purple Emperor' in its stony bed. Still, I suppose her
aunt will see to that, as well as look after her better than she has
done to-day."
"Oh, I expect so," replied Ailsa in her soft voice, as the car whizzed
its way out into the open country.
"She seems to be very eccentric from what I have heard of her from Lady
Brenton, a near neighbour of us both. Strangely enough, there is a
little romance here, for Lady Brenton's husband was once engaged to Miss
Cheyne, and I believe jilted her for his wife, so that a feud exists
between the two families. But I believe it will be another case of
Romeo and Juliet, for Lady Margaret is deeply in love with Sir Edgar,
the only son of the squire, and there is no doubt that they will get
married soon and then----"
"They will live happily ever afterward," flung back Cleek, laughing
softly. "Ah, youth, youth!" His words died away on his lips, and a look
of indescribable pain, amounting almost to despair, crossed his
features, and for a time only the soft whirr of the car was heard as it
plowed along the deserted country lane.
For some time a silence held, a silence which was poignant with
memories. The country cottage was nearly in sight when Ailsa spoke
again.
"I think I will wake her up now, so that I may be assured she knows
where to find me in case she is lonely," she said softly, and smiled up
into his face. "I have taken a great fancy to that child, dear, and
perhaps I may be able to help her."
For answer Cleek slowed down the car that she could climb into the back.
Lady Margaret was still sound asleep, so sound that not even the opening
and closing of the door disturbed her slumbers, and as Ailsa looked down
on the delicate, upturned face, she gave a little sigh of regret at
having to arouse her.
Very gently she placed her arm round the sleeping figure and raised her
in the seat. The girl gave a little cry of distress.
"It is all right, dear," said Ailsa, tenderly, "you are quite safe but
nearly home. I thought I had better rouse you."
"Oh, I remember now." Lady Margaret shook herself, to bring her
scattered wits together. "For a minute I couldn't think. But I feel much
better, dear Miss Lorne. Oh! It is good of you to have taken so much
trouble. I am so glad we are going to be neighbours."
"Friends, too, I hope," said Ailsa with a little smile. "Would you like
me to come all the way home with you, or do you think you will be all
right by yourself."
"Oh, quite all right, dear Miss Lorne," replied the girl with a forlorn
little smile that went straight to Ailsa's heart. "We certainly shall be
friends, and I am sure Auntie will be grateful to you, too, but she has
always been undemonstrative, and I would not think of letting you go out
of your way, if you are sure your friend, I forget now----"
"Lieutenant Deland," said Ailsa, promptly, "a very good friend to me,
and you may safely entrust yourself to his care, dear. I do not want
Miss Cheyne to think us intrusive, so if you are sure you are quite
restored by the little sleep just drive on and when you get home, do
not trouble to thank Lieutenant Deland at all unless you like. And I
will call and see Miss Cheyne to-morrow and explain how ill and tired
you were. Good-bye, my child, and a good night's rest to you."
The girl returned her kiss willingly, and as the car slowed down outside
the gates of the little riverside cottage, Ailsa opened the door and
alighted.
"I have roused her now," she said gently to Cleek, sitting sphinx-like
at the steering wheel, "and I think she will be all right. I would
gladly drive all the way home with her, but I know Miss Cheyne is an
eccentric being who loathes strangers at the best of times, and as she
has probably seen me walking with Lady Brenton, she would most likely
resent my interference. So you see, dear, I must leave the unpleasant
task of facing the old lady and explaining matters to you."
Cleek smiled down at her tenderly. "I would face greater dangers than
that, Ailsa," he said in a low, tender tone. "You know I am only happy
in helping you, and those you are helping. I cannot see why Miss Cheyne
should prove disagreeable, indeed she ought to be very grateful to you
for rescuing her niece from the dangers that a big city might offer to a
young, innocent child."
Ailsa shuddered.
"Yes. I myself don't mind what she says, so long as I know Sir Edgar's
_fiancée_ is safe. I daresay Lady Brenton will contrive to waylay her
to-morrow, and then----"
"Journeys end in lovers' meetings, eh?" concluded Cleek, with a little
laugh of pure happiness.
"Well, I mustn't complain. I, too, look forward to a to-morrow.
Good-night, my Ailsa."
She looked into his face with tender eyes. Their hands met and clasped
in the silence that speaks more than words. Then she turned upon her
heel and sped away into the shadows, while Cleek took the steering wheel
once more. He sent the car rocketing onward toward the house which was
to witness a tragedy, a tragedy that was about to set the world agape,
and spin a riddle that even Cleek himself would find almost impossible
to solve.