Part 46 (2/2)
”I am prepared to be frank with you in return for your frankness, monsieur,” he answered.
But I saw in his evasive replies an intention to mislead me into a belief that he was actuated towards me by friendly motives. Therefore my antagonism increased. He had defied me, and I would give him into custody.
Presently there came a loud knocking at the door, and, upon my opening it, a police-sergeant stood upon the threshold.
”I give this man into custody,” I said, addressing him and pointing to the Frenchman.
”Upon what charge, sir?” asked the burly officer, whose broad shoulders filled the doorway, while I saw a constable standing behind him.
”On suspicion of being a.s.sociated with the theft of the diamonds of the Archd.u.c.h.ess Marie Louise,” I replied.
”Come, monsieur,” laughed my visitor, speaking again in English, ”I think we have carried this sufficiently far.” And, placing his hand in his breast-pocket, he produced a small folded yellow card bearing his photograph, which he handed to me. ”Read that!” he added, with a laugh of triumph.
I saw that the printed card was headed ”Prefecture de Police, Ville de Paris,” and that it was signed, countersigned, and bore a large red official seal.
Quickly I scanned it, and, to my abject dismay, realized that Henri Guertin was chief of the first section of the _surete_--he was one of the greatest detectives of France!
I stammered something, and then, turning to the sergeant, red and ashamed, I admitted that I had made a mistake in attempting to arrest so distinguished an official.
The two metropolitan officers held the card in their hands, and, unable to read French, asked me to translate it for them, which I did.
”Why,” cried the sergeant, ”Monsieur Guertin is well known! His name figures in the papers only this morning as arresting two Englishmen in Paris for a mysterious murder alleged to have been committed in some house in Bayswater!”
”In Bayswater!” I gasped. ”In Porchester Terrace?”
”Yes,” replied the famous French detective. ”It is true that I know Reckitt and Forbes. But I only knew them in order to get at the truth.
They never suspected me, and early yesterday morning I went to the snug little apartments they have in the Rue de Rouen, and arrested them, together with two young Frenchmen named Tera.s.sier and Brault.
Concealed beneath a loose board in the bedroom of the last-named man I found the missing gems.”
”Then Tera.s.sier and Brault were the two men who met the others in Stamford, and carried the diamonds across to the Continent, intending to dispose of them?”
”Exactly. There was a hitch in disposing of them in Amsterdam, as had been intended, and though the diamonds had been knocked from their settings, I found them intact.”
He told me that Forbes was the actual thief, who had so daringly travelled to Finsbury Park and collected the tickets _en route_. He had practically confessed to having thrown the bag out to Reckitt and Pennington, who were waiting at a point eight miles north of Peterborough. They had used an electric flash-lamp as they stood in the darkness near the line, and the thief, on the look-out for the light, tossed the bag out on to the embankment.
”Then my father-in-law is a thief!” I remarked, with chagrin, when the sergeant and constable had been dismissed. ”It was for that reason my wife dare not face me and make explanation!”
”You apparently believe Arnold Du Cane, alias Winton, alias Pennington, to be Sylvia's father--but such is not the case,” remarked the great detective slowly. ”To his career attaches a very remarkable story--one which, in my long experience in the unravelling of mysteries of crime, has never been equalled.”
”Tell me it,” I implored him eagerly. ”Where is my poor wife?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE FRENCHMAN MAKES A STATEMENT
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