Part 8 (1/2)

”I haven't the money with me. It's a pretty thing, but a trifle too dear.” And I turned as though to leave.

”Well, now, ninetheen pound won't hurt yer. You shall 'ave it for ninetheen pound.”

”Eighteen ten, if you like,” I said. ”What time do you close?”

”Nine.”

”Then I'll be back before that with the money,” I answered, and I saw the gleam of satisfaction in the Hebrew's eyes, for it had been p.a.w.ned for five pounds. He, however, was not aware that it was I who was getting the best of the bargain.

I drove in a cab back to the Const.i.tutional Club, where I had left my bag for the night, and the secretary, a friend of mine, at once cashed a cheque, with the result that within an hour I had the necklet and deposited it safely in my suit-case, gratified beyond measure to know that at least I had baffled the police in the possession of this very suspicious piece of evidence.

From the Jew I had endeavoured to ascertain casually who had pledged the ornament, but neither he nor his a.s.sistant recollected. In that particularly improvident part of London with its floating population of struggling actors and music-hall artistes, each p.a.w.nbroker has thousands of chance clients, therefore recollection is well-nigh impossible.

Having successfully negotiated this matter, however, a second and more difficult problem presented itself, namely, how was I to avoid delivering the letter to Sir Stephen Layard, the Home Secretary--the Earl's request that the Criminal Investigation Department should hound down the woman I adored?

My duty was to go at once to Pont Street and deliver the Earl's note, but my loyalty to my love demanded that I should find some excuse for withholding it.

I stood on the club steps in Northumberland Avenue watching the arrivals and departures from the _Hotel Victoria_ opposite, hesitating in indecision. If I did not call upon Sir Stephen, then some suspicion might be aroused, therefore I resolved to see him and during the interview nullify by some means the urgency of the Earl's request.

The Cabinet Minister, a middle-aged, clean-shaven man with keen eyes and very p.r.o.nounced aquiline features, entered the library a few minutes after I had sent in my card. He was in evening clothes, having, it appeared, just dined with several guests, but was nevertheless eager to serve such a powerful supporter of his party as the Earl of Stanchester.

We had met before, therefore I needed no introduction, but instead of delivering the letter I deemed it best to explain matters in my own way.

”I must apologise for intruding at this hour, Sir Stephen,” I commenced, ”but the fact is that a very curious and tragic affair has happened in the Earl of Stanchester's park down at Sibberton, and he has sent me to ask your opinion as to the best course to pursue in order to get the police at Scotland Yard to take up the matter.”

”What, is it a mystery or something?” inquired the well-known statesman, quickly alert.

I described how the body of the unknown man had been discovered, but added purposely that the inquest had not yet been held, and there that were several clues furnished by articles discovered in the dead man's pockets.

”Well, the Northampton police are surely able to take up such a plain, straightforward case as that!” he remarked. ”If not, they are not worth very much, I should say.”

”But his lords.h.i.+p has not much faith in the intelligence of the local constabulary,” I ventured to remark with a smile.

”Local constables are not usually remarkable for shrewdness or inventiveness,” he laughed. ”But surely at the headquarters of the county constabulary they have several very experienced and clever officers. With such clues there can surely be little difficulty in establis.h.i.+ng the man's ident.i.ty.”

”Then you think it unnecessary to place the matter in the hands of the Criminal Investigation Department?” I remarked.

”Quite--at least for the present,” was his reply, which instantly lifted a great weight from my mind. ”We must allow the coroner's jury to give their verdict, and, at any rate, give the local police an opportunity of making proper inquiries before we take the matter out of their hands. I much regret being unable to a.s.sist the Earl of Stanchester in the matter, but at present I am really unable to order Scotland Yard to take the matter up. If, however, the local police fail, then perhaps you will kindly tell him that I shall be very pleased to reconsider the request, and, if possible, grant it.” This was exactly the reply I desired. Indeed, I had put my case lamely on purpose, and had gradually led him to this decision.

”Of course,” I said, ”I will explain to his lords.h.i.+p the exact position and your readiness to order expert a.s.sistance as soon as such becomes absolutely imperative. By the way,” I added, ”he gave me a note to you.” And I then produced it, as though an after-thought.

He glanced over it and laid it upon his table, repeating his readiness to render the Earl all the a.s.sistance he could when the proper time came--the usual evasive reply of the Cabinet Minister.

Then he shook hands with me, and I left him, rea.s.sured that I had at least prevented the introduction of any of those clever experts in criminal investigation. The suspicions against Lolita grew darker every hour, yet even though they were well-grounded I was determined to save her.

That broad-shouldered man with whom I had seen her strolling in the early morning after the tragedy puzzled me greatly. Had I only obtained sight of him, I should, perhaps, have learnt the truth. Yet when I reviewed the whole of the mysterious circ.u.mstances my brain became awhirl. They were bewildering, for the mystery had become even more inscrutable than it at first appeared.

That my love had some connexion with the affair, I could not for a moment disguise. Her manner, her very admissions in themselves convicted her. Therefore I felt that with the facts of which I was already in possession I had greater chance than the most expert detective of pursuing my own inquiries to a successful issue.

On leaving Sir Stephen Layard's about nine o'clock, I resolved to ascertain what kind of house was number ninety-eight in Britten Street, Chelsea, the place where lived the Frenchwoman, Lejeune. I recollected the desperate words of my love on the previous night and wondered whether the death of the unknown man might not have altered the circ.u.mstances. Somehow I had a distinct suspicion that it might, hence I resolved not to reveal my presence at the place until I had again consulted Lolita.