Part 33 (1/2)

”Yes!” cried Alan Hawke, his eyes growing wolfish, and he leaned over to his companion and whispered for a few moments. ”That's the trick, Governor,” nodded Jack Blunt, ”You work on the double event. And--I get my money--play or pay?”

”Yes. Put up in good notes--only you are not to bungle!”

”Do you think I would fool around with a 'previous conviction' against me? The next is a lifer, and I've got to use the knife or a barker, if I run up against trouble, for I'll never wear the Queen's jewelry again!

I've sworn it!” The man's eyes were gleaming now like burning coals, ”I'll do the grand, and then, take off my beard and change my garb! I look twenty years older in a stubble chin. I can watch them from the public at Rozel Pier. I used to do a neat little bit of cognac, silk, and cigar smuggling. I know every crag of Corbiere Rocks, every shady joint in St. Heliers, every nook of St. Aubin's Bay. Oh! I'm fly to the whole game!”

”Could you not get a good boat's crew there?” anxiously demanded Major Hawke.

”Ah! My boy! I am 'king high' with a set of daring fishermen, who can smell out every rock from Dover to Land's End; and, from Calais to Brest, in the blackest night of the channel, if it pays.”

”Then, Jack, your fortune is made, if you stand in. We'll pull it off, in one way or the other. You've got an easy job for a man of your ability. I'll meet you at Granville! Now, get over to St. Heliers, and work the whole trick in your own way! Send me your secret address in Jersey at once to Hotel Faucon, Lausanne, and run over to the French coast at Granville and find a safe nest there for us. There we are within seventeen miles of each other, with two mails a day, and the telegraph. It's a wonderful plant, so it is.”

”Yes, Governor! And old Etienne Garcia, at the 'Cor d'Abondance' in Granville, is the very slyest rogue in France. When you find a c.r.a.paud who is dead to rights, he is always an out and outer. I'll square you with my old pal, Etienne, who slyly makes 'floaters' and then gets the government cash reward for towing them in. He has always a half dozen pretty girls hanging around there, and many a good looking stranger has ended his 'tour' by a sudden drop through the flow of the drinking room over the wharf where Etienne keeps his 'boats to let.'”

”How does he do it?” mused Alan Hawke. ”It's a risky game in France.”

Jack Blunt laughed.

”A few puffs of smoke in a cognac gla.s.s, and the subject is knocked out for an hour after drinking from the nicotine-filmed crystal, bless you,”

laughed Blunt, ”there's never a mark on Etienne's victims. He is too fine for that, only cases of plain, simple, 'accidental drowning.'

”You may as well address me as 'Joseph Smith, Jersey Arms, Rozel Pier, Jersey.' I am solid with Mrs. Floyd, the landlady there,” said the scoundrel mobsman, anxious to spend some of his cash.

”All right, then, Jack! Go ahead!” cheerfully cried Major Hawke. ”Don't overgo my instructions a single hair! I'll either join you in the grand stroke, or else meet you at Granville and there tell you what to do.

Remember that I'll settle all your Jersey bills, and I will send a post order for ten pounds extra to you at the 'Jersey Arms,' to give you a local standing with the postman.

”That you can spend on the underlings around the Banker's Folly, but beware of an old body servant named Simpson--an old red-coat who may turn up any day now from India! He was Johnstone's own man, and he hates me, at heart, I know! Now, if you can do the 'artist act,' you must find out where the old man keeps his stuff! I don't know yet whether we want him first or the girl; or to crack the whole crib! If we ever do, then, Simpson must get the--” Hawke grimly smiled, as he drew his hand across his throat! ”I must be off!” he hastily said as he noted the time.

On his way over to Folkestone, Major Alan Hawke mused over his great coup, as he lay at ease, wrapped up in a traveling rug, and now resplendent in a fur-trimmed top coat, befrogged and laced, which indicated the officer en retraite.

”I will first do up Holland, Belgium, and Denmark, and take a little preliminary look around Paris,” mused the Major, studying a list of the missing jewels which Captain Anstruther had artfully arranged. Sundry deductions and additions, with an admirable disorder in the items (judiciously divided and recla.s.sified) served to guard against any old confidences exchanged between Ram Lal and his secret friend Hawke. The real list in the original was now in the private pocket-book of the Viceroy.

”Each of our Consuls at the cities you are to visit has this list,” said Anstruther to the Major, ”and you can vary your travel as you choose, but visit all these jewel marts, and report to the local Consuls. If they have further orders for you, you will get them there, at first hands. Should you find that any of the jewels have been offered for sale, simply report the facts to the local Consul, and write under seal to me at the Junior United Service, then go on and examine further at once! You are to take no steps whatever to recover them, or to alarm the thieves! All your expenses and your pay will be advanced by me!” The acute schemer decided not to risk any suspicions by marketing his own jewels. ”They might bounce me for the murder,” fearfully mused the Major. ”I could show no honest t.i.tle through Ram Lal. They might arrest him, and I need him to pay the protested drafts--later, when I go back on the Viceroy's staff!” He smiled and wove his webs like a spider in his den.

On his arrival in Paris, from a run to the Low Countries, a week later, Major Alan Hawke betook himself at once to No. 9 Rue Berlioz. And there Marie Victor greeted him, handing him a letter which was dated from Jitomir, Volhynia. ”How is your mistress?” he affably demanded.

”She is well, and will remain for several months longer in Russia!”

politely answered Marie, bowing him out.

”By G.o.d, then, she has given up the chase! I see it all!” mused Hawke, as he pored over the letter on his way to the Hotel Binda. ”The trump card she wished to play was to blast the old fellow's hopes of a baronetcy. Death has struck down her prey, and, she will now wait till the girl is free! She is too sly to face old Fraser; his brother has warned him. But she says she will need me in the winter, on her return.”

The deceived scoundrel laughed. ”The coast is left clear for me now!

I'll telegraph to Joseph Smith, run on to Geneva, deposit my own jewels there, in the agency of the Credit Lyonnais, and then return the notifications of protest of the Bills of Exchange to Ram Lal.

”I wonder if I can steal those jewels, get my Major's rank as a reward from the Viceroy, and marry the girl? It would be the luck of a life!”

he dreamed.

Two days later, on the terraces of Lausanne, he laughed over Jack Blunt's cheeky campaign.