Part 23 (1/2)
”At your ladys.h.i.+p's service,” he replied. ”We are out this morning--Superintendent Narkom and I--in quest of what is probably the most skilful and audacious pair of jewel thieves in the world--just the one particular pair in all the universe to whom a loot so valuable as the Ladder of Light would offer the strongest kind of an appeal. So, if by any chance, something has occurred which threatens the safety of that amazing necklace--and you and Sir Mawson are in a position to know the facts----Come! Take me into your confidence, and--perhaps! Who knows?”
Before he had fairly finished speaking, Lady Leake caught up his hand, and, holding it fast squeezed in both her own, looked up at him with bright, wet eyes.
”It must have been heaven itself that sent you to us this morning,”
she cried. ”If any man in the world _can_ help us, I believe in my soul that you are the man. Mawson, you hear, dearest? It is Mr.
Cleek. The wonderful Mr. Cleek. Why didn't we think of _him_ before?
Tell him, Mawson--tell him everything, my dear.”
Sir Mawson acted upon the suggestion instantly.
”Mr. Cleek, I beg, I implore you to come to our a.s.sistance!” he exclaimed in a very transport of excitement. ”Lady Leake is right.
If any man _can_, you are he! You ask if anything has happened with regard to that accursed necklace and if I can give you any information on the subject? To both questions, yes! It is gone! It is lost! It is stolen!”
”What's that? Stolen? The Ladder of Light? Good heavens! When? Where?
How?”
”Yesterday--from my keeping! From my house! And G.o.d have mercy on me, I have every reason to believe that the thief is my eldest son!”
CHAPTER XXI
It was a full minute later and in all that minute's length no one had spoken, no one had made a single sound.
The shock, the shame, of such a confession, telling, as it did, why he had attempted to destroy himself, had crumpled the man up, taken all the vitality out of him. He faced round and leaned his bent arm against the wall of the stable, hid his face in the crook of it, and Cleek, pitying him, let him have that minute all to himself. Then:
”Come,” he said, very gently, going over to him and patting him on the shoulder. ”Buck up! Buck up! There's nothing in all the world so deceptive as appearances, Sir Mawson; perhaps, when I've heard the facts----Well, haven't I told you that I am out for a pair of expert jewel thieves, and that that necklace is just the sort of thing they'd be likely to make play for? How do you know, then, that they didn't?”
”I wish I could believe that, I wish I could even hope it,” he gave back miserably. ”But you don't know the facts, Mr. Cleek.”
”To be sure I don't; and they're what I'm after. Let's have them, please. To begin with, how came the Ladder of Light to be in your possession at all?”
”It was brought to me yesterday--for repairing--by the Ranee's own _major domo_. Not a mere _cice_, Mr. Cleek, but the most trusted of all her henchmen. Three of the narrow gold links which hold the stones together had worn thin and needed strengthening. It was four o'clock in the afternoon when he arrived, and the Ranee, he said, had selected our house for the work on the recommendation of royalty.
There was several hours' work on the thing--I saw that the instant I examined it. But I was appalled by the fearful responsibility of having a jewel of such fabulous value on the premises--with people constantly coming in and going out--and determined, therefore, to take it home and do the repairs myself. I informed the Ranee's _major domo_ of that resolution, and demanded of him a guard of the Ranee's own attendants to accompany me on the journey and to keep watch over my house until he should come in person to receive the necklace to-day.
”He accorded me this willingly; departed--still retaining possession of the jewel, for I would not have it left with me at any cost--returned with the guard an hour later, handed me the case containing the necklace, and I left for home a few minutes after five--and the Hindu guard with me. On arriving----”
”One moment, please,” interposed Cleek. ”Did you examine the case to see if the Ladder of Light was still there before you started?”
”Yes, Mr. Cleek. I have no very great faith in Hindus at any time, so you may be sure I took that precaution the instant the man placed the case in my hands. The necklace was there. I even went further.
Before leaving my place of business I submitted the stones to chemical test to be sure that no subst.i.tution had been made. They were absolutely genuine; so that there can be no shadow of doubt that it was the Ladder of Light itself I carried home with me. On arriving at my residence I stationed the two Hindu guards at the front gate, entered the house, and was upon the point of going immediately to my study to subject the stones to yet another chemical test--to make sure that no trickery had been practised upon me by the Hindus on the journey--when I was unexpectedly pounced upon in the main hallway by my son, Henry, who was in a greatly excited state and attempted to renew the subject of our unpleasant interview of the day before.”
Here Sir Mawson's voice grew curiously thick and unsteady. He paused a moment as if ashamed to go on, then stiffened himself and continued.
”Mr. Cleek,” he said, agitatedly, ”it is necessary that I should tell you, at this point, something with regard to those who make up the members of my household.”
”You needn't. I have already heard. Lady Leake is, I believe, your second wife, and you have two sons.”
”No--three,” he corrected. ”Henry, my eldest, who is twenty-four and is the only survivor of the children of my first and most unhappy marriage; Curzon, who is just entering his twenty-first year, and Bevis, who has not yet turned seven, and is, of course, still in the nursery. I may as well admit to you, Mr. Cleek, that my first marriage was a failure; that it was none of my own choosing, but was consummated in deference to the will and wishes of my parents. We were utterly unsuited to each other, my first wife and I, and it is, no doubt, only natural that the son she left me when death delivered us both from an irksome bondage should reflect in himself some of those points of difference which made our union a mistake.