THE STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE AND STRANGER RECOVERY OF THE COUNTESS'S
DIAMONDS.
_A barefaced robbery--The police at fault--I form a theory--success
crowns my efforts--the restoration of the valuable dressing-case._
All London was talking about the robbery. It was the most barefaced
theft attempted for many years. In broad daylight at a busy London
station a dressing-case containing jewels of the value of £50,000,
some of them impossible to replace, vanishes as if by magic, and
notwithstanding the extraordinary exertions of detectives both public
and private, not a trace of it can be found.
It was the duty of the lady's maid not to lose sight of this valuable
dressing-case on the journey, and while she waited for the train she
took the precaution to sit on it. It was to the bookstall for a paper
or to the refreshment room for a bun she went, but the interval was
long enough for the thief--during the few seconds she was absent the
dressing case had been spirited away and no trace of it could be found
of it in the station. The poor girl who had served her mistress, whom
she adored faithfully, for several years, was distracted, and it was
feared she would go out of her mind. She was a well conducted girl, and
came from the same district as the countess. It was impossible after
the most diligent enquiry to connect the servant with the theft. There
was a man servant, but he was in a different part of the station at the
time, and no collusion could be attributed to him. The large reward of
£2,000 was a temptation, but its announcement in all the papers yielded
no results. Agents scoured Europe in search of the missing property
without getting the smallest clue to its recovery.
The affair was in this unsatisfactory state when I happened to run
against D----, one of the smartest officers of the Metropolitan police.
"Nothing has been heard of the countess's jewellery?" I asked.
"Nothing whatever; we are beaten; everything has been tried and a large
amount of money spent on the enquiry," D---- answered. "The earl said
we were to spare no expense. Several articles of the jewellery were
heirlooms, worth double their real value."
"It seems extraordinary; have you formed no opinion?"
"I suspected one of the servants to be in communication with the thief,
but a month's close surveillance upsets that theory. The servants are
innocent."
"Did none of the less valuable jewellery ever find its way to the
pawnbrokers?"
"Not a single thing. Everybody has been on the alert, but we are just
as far forward as when we commenced."
"Your advertisements were peculiarly worded. Did they bring no replies?"
"Only some ridiculous suggestions."
You see you labour under this difficulty. You cannot offer through the
public prints to compound a felony; that would be illegal; and the
thief is not such a fool, after running the tremendous risk and getting
such a magnificent haul, to take the bait. He fancies the large reward
hides a trap which will hold him fast for many years."
"In all such cases that is the difficulty we labour under. In offering
a reward we rely chiefly on a dissatisfied accomplice taking Queen's
evidence, but it is almost certain that there was only one man in this
business."
"How do you arrive at that conclusion?" I enquired.
"Five minutes after the robbery took place the investigation commenced,
and everybody was questioned. The porters did not see any two men
near the spot but there were several men lounging about singly by
themselves."
"I suppose a woman had no hand in it."
"The act was too daring; only a man could have walked off with that
dressing-case in the daylight with a station full of passengers."
"Tell me," I said, "after the dressing-case disappeared, when did the
next train leave the station."
"In five minutes. The countess intended to travel by that train, but
the loss of her dressing-case prevented her."
"You have my address; send me a list of the stolen things and a
company's time-table, with the train which started five minutes after
the robbery marked in ink, and take care there is no mistake about the
train. I have been thinking a good deal about this matter, and have set
up a theory of my own."
"There is one thing you may be certain about. You have no ordinary
criminal to deal with."
"I am not quite of your opinion, but if anything comes of my researches
you shall have a portion of the reward."
Whether it is my peculiar bent of mind or not, I cannot say, but I
have often in the course of my lifetime amused myself by taking up
mysterious cases where the police were at fault, and not always without
success. The countess was one of the most beautiful women of her time,
and as good as she was beautiful. She was naturally much grieved at the
loss of the family jewels, and the numerous valuable presents she had
received from royalty and others on her marriage. The earl was terribly
annoyed at the theft, and blamed the countess for losing sight of the
dressing-case. Every assistance, so far as publicity was concerned,
was given by the press, and the _Times_ had a leader about one of the
missing stones, which had once been the eye of an idol in India.
The list of the stolen valuables and the marked time-table were
promptly sent to me, and as I had some leisure at the time I went
immediately to work to test the soundness of my theory. The robbery
was committed five minutes before a certain train started, and the
culprit may have left by that train.
I commenced my researches by booking by the same train to the first
station at which it stopped. Here I made copious notes of the families
living in the neighbourhood, and whether any of them had journeyed
from London on the day in question. The station-master, an intelligent
man, ran over the different names and referred to his books, but
could not enlighten me. To the best of his belief, he could say that
no first-class passengers arrived by that train. Next day I took the
second station at which the train stopped, but with the same result.
The third station did not advance me in the slightest degree, but I was
not discouraged. I was determined to follow that train to its journey's
end, and ascertain as well as I could what passengers alighted from it
at the different stations. As it was an express train my task would
soon be finished. When I had done the last station I found from my
note book that about eight first-class and some seventy or eighty
passengers of an inferior class had travelled from London by this
particular train.
I began with the first-class passengers, and took them in rotation as
they resided nearest to London. The excuse I made for calling upon them
was that I had lost a valuable dog on the day named by his jumping out
of the carriage at the station, and that perhaps their servants might
have seen something of him. Everywhere I was treated with courtesy
except when I intruded myself on a nervous old gentleman living in an
old-fashioned villa about sixty miles from London.
He commenced by saying he did not keep a diary, so could not say
whether he was in London or not that day; he was not in the habit of
looking after stray dogs; he was astonished at my troubling him on such
a trifling matter, and rather rudely wished me good-day.
I wrote under this man's name: "Manner peculiar and suspicious."
Nothing could be gleaned from the remaining three first-class
passengers, who turned out to be old ladies, sisters of a clergyman.
Before tackling the second-class passengers I resolved, notwithstanding
his repulsive manner, to pay the nervous old gentleman another visit.
But this time, however, I made up my mind to adopt different and
bolder tactics. There was no doubt that he had returned home by the
5.10 p.m. train.
His start of surprise at seeing me again gave me hope.
"It is not a dog this time I have come to ask you about, but as you
were at the London station at the moment the disappearance occurred I
am here to enquire whether you saw the dressing-case referred to in
this advertisement," I said, handing him the announcement from the
_Morning Post_. He shook like a leaf in a stiff breeze.
"Who are you?" he nervously inquired. "Are you a detective?"
"That is my card."
"Then you don't belong to the police?"
"Certainly not."
"Then, may I ask what brings you here? Your dog was a subterfuge;
I suppose. Do you suspect me, a man who has held Her Majesty's
commission, to be guilty of theft?"
"Not at all," I answered, "but I have a theory that the countess's
dressing-case was not stolen, but carried off by mistake, and that the
present possessor of it is, after all the outcry, either ashamed or
afraid to send it back."
"A fine theory. Suppose it correct, could anything be done to the man
who gave it up?"
"Nothing whatever."
"You, perhaps, don't know the law. Are you sure of that?"
"Quite sure."
"Well," he whispered, "I have got the dressing-case, and the possession
of it has almost killed me. Come, and I will show you how the infernal
error occurred."
He took me into his bedroom, and produced two dressing-cases so
exactly alike I could scarcely distinguish them.
"This one," he said, "belonged to my deceased wife, and I had it with
me in London. When the train was about to start I saw what I thought
was my case lying on the platform, instead of being placed in the
carriage by the porter, and I immediately went and took possession of
it. I did not discover the stupid mistake until my arrival at home. I
was the only passenger in the railway compartment, and my servant took
everything out as a matter of course. The question is how is it to be
restored safely, and without publicity. It would kill me with shame if
my name appeared in the papers in connection with this affair."
I could see that my irascible friend spoke the language of truth. The
advertisements were withdrawn, the enquiry stopped, and the countess
received her valuable dressing-case intact, and with apologies without
number from the hands of the man who had carried it off by mistake.
What he would have done with it had I not appeared on the scene, I
cannot guess.