THE TRAP
For the space of ten minutes after that staggering discovery Dollops,
who had followed closely on his "Gov'nor's" heels, stood watching him
trot round and round that field, not unlike one of the colts on the
other side of the hedge.
Presently, as Cleek stood by a clump of golden gorse, Dollops saw him
throw back his head and give a little laugh of triumph.
"Dollops," he called to the watching lad, "cut back to the Inn, and tell
Mr. Narkom to send Lennard up to Cheyne Court with the car. I'm going
back to nose around again, and may need them both."
"Yes, sir," said Dollops, obediently, "and shall I come back?"
"Please yourself," was the laughing reply. "I shall want you to keep an
eye on the Wynnes, though. There's something there I'm not quite sure
of----"
Dollops showed a sudden outburst of joy.
"You trust 'em to me," he said, excitedly. "I always did say as 'ow that
young party was up to no good, but I'll look after 'em all right. You
leave 'er to me."
With a little nod, Cleek turned back and Dollops sped off on his errand.
At the beginning of the lane, however, his mind always on the alert, he
looked back, and like his master a few minutes before, he had the
surprise of his life. The field was one unbroken seat of grass and gorse
bushes. Cleek, too, had disappeared!
For a moment Dollops stood stunned by the shock. Then he moved as if to
turn back, but he had had his orders and as there had been neither sight
nor sound of anything suspicious he turned once more, and ran as hard as
he could in the direction of the village.
It was some half an hour later when the limousine drew up outside the
door of Cheyne Court, and Dollops hopped out of it.
"Gawd send 'e's safe," said he, his teeth chattering like a monkey's.
"It gave me the fair 'ump, Mr. Narkom, when I looks back and 'e was
gone, vanished clean off the map, so to speak. Wot if 'e ain't 'ere,
after all? S'pose those devils, Pentacle gangers they was fer sure,
nipped 'im? I ought never to 'ave left 'im! That's wot I oughtn't to
'ave done. An' if anything 'appens to 'im it'll be all my blooming
fault!"
The Superintendent frowned, though to tell the truth, he was as anxious
as Dollops himself over Cleek's strange disappearance. He jumped out of
the vehicle in Dollops' wake and entered the house.
Just then the ballroom door opened swiftly and Cleek came out, his eyes
shining and a look of utter satisfaction on his face.
"Thank goodness you're safe, Cleek!" the Superintendent said, striding
up to him, "though how you got here, without being seen beats all, for
we had a man on the road you know."
Cleek smiled.
"Precisely, Mr. Narkom," he replied, serenely, a queer little smile on
his face. "All roads lead to Rome, you know. By the bye, is Lennard
outside?"
"Yes," said Mr. Narkom. "But what is it? Don't tell me you've discovered
the truth at last?"
Cleek gave out a little triumphant laugh.
"Discovered?" he said. "No, I am only at the beginning yet," and he
fairly pushed Mr. Narkom before him out of the house.
"Lennard," said he, "streak it to the Natural History Museum,
Kensington, and drive like the wind. There isn't a moment to spare."
The door of the limousine flashed open and shut again, the car leapt
forward and sped down the drive and into the lane. A second later it was
on its way Londonward, the astonished Superintendent and Dollops being
left to wend their way slowly toward the village.
They found the Inn there filled to overflowing with a crowd of men whose
business soon showed itself to be that of ferreting out facts, true or
untrue, for an inquisitive world--reporters on every paper in the
country that boasted a column of police news. The disappearance of Lady
Margaret Cheyne had recalled the romantic history of the whole family,
and both Sir Edgar and Lady Brenton writhed at the amount of publicity
they were being forced to endure at the hands of the press. When, too,
it leaked out that the famous jewels were missing, public excitement ran
riot.
Meanwhile Petrie, Hammond, and their satellites kept faithful watch
round Cheyne Court, and so concentrated were the efforts of the local
police that when late in the afternoon the gaily-painted caravans of a
travelling circus camped out on the vacant meadow adjoining the Court
estate, for the first time in local history, no notice was taken of it,
save by the youthful denizens of the neighbourhood. To them an inquest
could hardly be expected to offer the same absorbing interest as the
joys of "Professor James' Marsupial Circus," which legend was inscribed
on the carts and gaudy placards that were hastily pasted up. Kangaroos,
Muskrats, Civet-cats, Opossums, and other specimens of Australian fauna
were promised to be shown at the opening performance on Monday, and it
was no wonder that the youthful section of Hampton were content to spend
every hour of their leisure in a vain effort to quench their sudden
thirst for natural history on the cheap.
Constable Roberts, however, had looked with a keenly professional eye at
Professor James and his caravans, for these vehicles invariably spelt
gypsies, and gypsies and jewel thefts went hand in hand.
Accordingly, when at about five o'clock of the following day Cleek
appeared in the neighbourhood of Cheyne Court, that worthy stopped him
and begged the favour of a word immediately.
"Gypsies, sir," said he with some disgust in his voice, "they've planked
themselves there in this field," he pointed in a general direction,
"since this morning and whether to send 'em away or not just beats me."
Cleek stood at the side of the motor, and regarded the Constable with a
face as blank as a brick wall.
"Gypsies, eh, Roberts? Surely all circuses are not composed of gypsies,
are they?" he said, finally. "It's a funny time of the year to start a
circus, I must say. I thought they appeared later in the season!"
"So they does, sir," responded the Constable, emphatically, "an' what
makes it more funny still, I don't believe there ain't no animals at
all, sir--leastways, not live ones."
"Well," said Cleek. "You don't mean to tell me it's a circus of dead
animals, do you? That is a bit too much."
The Constable shrugged his shoulders.
"No, sir, I don't go so far as to say that, but what beats me is that
you can't see no signs of any animals about and what's more you can't
_smell_ 'em, either. And I never knew no circus wot yer couldn't smell
'arf a mile off."
Cleek laughed, but in an instant was serious again.
"Come to think of it, Roberts," said he, "you're right on that point. I
think I'll take a look round on my own before I join the Superintendent.
Can you come with me? No, I think it would be better not. We might
frighten the birds away, and perhaps it's just as well, if they are not
on the straight, to catch them red-handed. As it is, you've done enough
to earn promotion twice over." Speaking, he jumped back into the car.
With a few words to Lennard, they drove away into the oncoming dusk.
With the blinds pulled down, and Mr. Narkom's faithful locker at his
command, Cleek got busy, so that when some few minutes later he had
reached the little camp, a burly Australian swagman dismounted from the
car. Swaggering up to what was presumably the tent of the proprietor, he
gave a loud "Coo-ee!" that might have been heard easily on the other
side of the river.
It had the desired effect of bringing out "Professor James," a man of
decided Cockney appearance and little trace of ever having been out of
the country.
"Cooe-ee," sang out the stranger, "your little bunch of carts is like a
sight of home. Say, pard, trot out one of your blessed kangaroos. I'll
grease yer palm, all right."
The lined, swarthy countenance of the Professor looked even more glum at
this request.
He shook his head.
"Circus not ready yet; can't do anything for you," he said gruffly.
Thereupon the stranger plunged his hand into his pocket and brought out
a £5 note.
"Give us a look of a kangaroo for the sake of old country," he said,
roughly, and held the note significantly before the "professor."
The man's eyes gleamed, and it was evident that the offer was a very
tempting one. But he had obviously received other orders.
"Clear out," he said, threateningly. "I don't want you or your precious
money hanging about here."
He came forward with clenched fist and the stranger recoiled a little,
then, turning on his heel, he gave an uncomfortable laugh.
"All right, Guv'nor," he said, "no harm meant. But of course if you're
going to be nasty----"
He lurched away in the opposite direction, singing at the top of his
voice an old-time music-hall ditty while the "professor" looked after
him somewhat regretfully.
* * * * *
It was nearly seven o'clock that evening when Mr. Maverick Narkom,
pacing uneasily up and down the little room which he had taken at the
Hampton Arms, saw the door swing open and shut again without a suspicion
of a sound. He looked up to find Cleek standing within a few paces of
him.
"At last!" he ejaculated. "Gad, my dear fellow, I never was so thankful
to see you in my life! Things seem to have got into an awful mess
somehow since you've been gone. You'll never guess what's happened,
Cleek; after all my instructions to that stupid idiot Roberts he's let
the Hindoo gang escape. They went up to the station, so I'm told, and
made their get-away."
"It does not matter," said Cleek, calmly. "I have come to the end of the
riddle at last, my friend."
"The end!" gasped Mr. Narkom. "Man alive, tell me."
Cleek held up a restraining hand and gave a little satisfied laugh.
"Patience, Mr. Narkom. Perhaps I ought not to have said so much, for
some few things remain to be discovered," he responded, serenely, "but
the first thing to do is to get all the jewels, where they can be easily
secured to-morrow in broad daylight."
"What jewels?" exclaimed Mr. Narkom, who had apparently lost sight of
that factor of the case, in view of the murders which occupied his mind.
"The Cheyne jewels, of course," replied Cleek, "and most of all, the
'Purple Emperor'----"
"Good Heavens, I had forgotten them. It's that poor young girl I have
been thinking about," said Mr. Narkom, excitedly. "Ten chances to one,
but what she's murdered, too, and----"
"I think not," responded Cleek. "I have just one more thread to gather
up, and then to-morrow I rather fancy she will be in a position to clear
things up for herself. But I've so much to tell you, that it's difficult
to know quite where to begin. And we can't talk here. Come down to
Cheyne Court with me."
"Delighted," responded the Superintendent with alacrity, but once in the
car, the two sat in silence, for Mr. Narkom saw how deeply Cleek was
absorbed in thought, until the rusty gates were passed. But once the car
drew up at the house, Cleek roused himself from his reverie.
His voice full of excitement, he said, "get the constables stationed
round the house, right out of the way. Put them and the other men where
they won't be able to see or hear what goes on at the back. Then make
some excuse of having to examine the body in reference to new evidence
that I have brought back with me. I'll join you there in half an hour."
Mr. Narkom gave a nod of comprehension and vanished up the path where
his men had been stationed, leaving Cleek to carry out his plans.
Thirty minutes later, with his customary soundlessness, he came up out
of the gloom of the neglected gardens and entered Cheyne Court, joining
the Superintendent in the ballroom, where in a hastily constructed
coffin lay the body of the stranger--a stranger no longer to Cleek.
He stood with frowning brows and regarded the dead man steadily.
"So it was a failure after all, Blake," he said, softly. "After escaping
the price all these years, to be caught like a rat in a trap for the
sake of a purple stone! Well! life is a queer mixture at best. But
you've drunk your glass to the dregs, Blake, and it owes nothing at
least to _you_!"
"_Blake_," ejaculated Mr. Narkom, "do you mean to say that you have
found out--that this--no, no--surely not--not James Blake--the head of
the Pentacle gang? The greatest set of rogues that ever saw their names
in the calendar. Not _that_ Blake, Cleek?"
Cleek smiled.
"The very same," he responded, gravely. "Give me but a few hours now,
and I will put the whole gang into your hands, but now there's something
I want to finish up here. I didn't want to do it this morning, and I
don't know but what we are too late now. Try and find the very centre of
this room for me, there's a good fellow, and stand there while I do a
little measuring and counting."
Mr. Narkom took out his torch and sent it sweeping round the great room,
until he found what he took to be the exact centre and announced the
fact.
"Good!" said Cleek. "We'll make sure to save time. Now, let's see; here
is one piece of wood. Now for the five others."
He paced slowly over the floor, marking at regular intervals with a
piece of chalk a little dark piece of the parquet flooring.
"Three, four, five, six--the six points right enough. Now to find the
centre."
Kneeling down, Mr. Narkom watched him draw long white chalk lines from
point to point.
Finally he gave a little satisfied grunt, stood up, and surveyed his
handiwork.
"Move a little away, Mr. Narkom, and if we aren't too late, we shall see
what we shall see," he cried, excitedly.
Advancing into the centre of the room, he bent down over the centre
piece of wood. As he did so, there came the horrible moaning cry,
causing even Mr. Narkom's hardened nerves to fail him. With a crash the
torch fell from his fingers, leaving them in total darkness!
"I forgot; I ought to have warned you--it's quite all right," said
Cleek, taken aback.
"Gad, Cleek, it startled me. What is it?" whispered the Superintendent.
"Have I ruined your plans?"
Cleek felt for his own torch and snapped it on so that the little disc
of white light fell distinctly upon the floor.
"Never mind," said he, serenely. "It doesn't matter now, I have learnt
all I want for the present. Come, let's get out of this. _That_ is the
answer to the riddle, and we are only just in time."