The Datchet Diamonds Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  OVERHEARD IN THE TRAIN

  It was with a feeling of grim amusement that Mr. Paxton bought himselfa first-class ticket. It was, probably, the last occasion on which hewould ride first-class for some considerable time to come. The die hadfallen; the game was lost--Eries had dropped more than one. Not onlyhad he lost all he had to lose, he was a defaulter. It was out of hispower to settle, he was going to emigrate instead. He had with him aGladstone bag; it contained all his worldly possessions that heproposed to take with him on his travels. His intention was, havingtold Miss Strong the news, and having bidden a last farewell, to gostraight from Brighton to Southampton, and thence, by the Americanline, to the continent on whose shores Europe dumps so many of itsfailures.

  The train was later than are the trains which are popular with Citymen. It seemed almost empty at London Bridge. Mr. Paxton had acompartment to himself. He had an evening paper with him. He turned tothe money article. Eries had closed a point lower even than he hadsupposed. It did not matter. A point lower, more or less, would makeno difference to him--the difference would be to the brokers who hadtrusted him. Wishing to do anything but think, he looked to see whatother news the paper might contain. Some sensational headlines caughthis eye.

  "ROBBERY OF THE DUCHESS OF DATCHET'S DIAMONDS!

  "AN EXTRAORDINARY TALE."

  The announcement amused him.

  "After all that is the sort of line which I ought to have made myown--robbing pure and simple. It's more profitable than what Daisysays that I call 'punting.'"

  He read on. The tale was told in the usual sensational style, thoughthe telling could scarcely have been more sensational than the talewhich was told. That afternoon, it appeared, an amazing robbery hadtaken place--amazing, first, because of the almost incredible value ofwhat had been stolen; and, second, because of the daring fashion inwhich the deed had been done. In spite of the desperate nature of hisown position--or, perhaps, because of it--Mr. Paxton drank in thestory with avidity.

  The Duchess of Datchet, the young, and, if report was true, thebeautiful wife of one of England's greatest and richest noblemen, hadbeen on a visit to the Queen at Windsor--the honoured guest of theSovereign. As a fitting mark of the occasion, and in order to appearbefore Her Majesty in the splendours which so well became her, theDuchess had taken with her the famous Datchet diamonds. As all theworld knows the Dukes of Datchet have been collectors of diamondsduring, at any rate, the last two centuries.

  The value of their collection is fabulous--the intrinsic value of thestones which the duchess had taken with her on that memorable journey,according to the paper, was at least L250,000--a quarter of a millionof money! This was the net value--indeed, it seemed that one mightalmost say it was the trade value, and was quite apart from anyadventitious value which they might possess, from, for instance, thepoint of view of historical association.

  Mr. Paxton drew a long breath as he read:

  "Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds--a quarter of a million! I amnot at all sure that I should not have liked to have had a finger insuch a pie as that. It would be better than punting at Eries."

  The diamonds, it seemed, arrived all right at Windsor, and the duchesstoo. The visit passed off with due _eclat_. It was as Her Grace wasreturning that the deed was done, though how it was done was, as yet,a profound mystery.

  "Of course," commented Mr. Paxton to himself, "all criminal Londonknew what she had taken with her. The betting is that they never lostsight of those diamonds from first to last; to adequately safeguardthem she ought to have taken with her a regiment of soldiers."

  Although she had not gone so far as a regiment of soldiers, thatprecaution had been taken--and precautions, moreover, which had beenfound to be adequate, over and over again, on previous occasions--wassufficiently plain. The duchess had travelled in a reserved salooncarriage by the five minutes past four train from Windsor toPaddington. She had been accompanied by two servants, her maid, and aman-servant named Stephen Eversleigh. Eversleigh was one of a familyof servants the members of which had been in the employment of theDukes of Datchet for generations.

  It was he who was in charge of the diamonds. They were in a leatherdespatch-box. The duchess placed them in it with her own hand, lockedthe box, and retained the key in her own possession. Eversleighcarried the box from the duchess's apartment in the Castle to thecarriage which conveyed her to the railway station. He placed it onthe seat in front of her.

  He himself sat outside with the maid. When the carriage reached thestation he carried it to the duchess's saloon. The duchess was thesole occupant of the saloon. She travelled with the despatch-box infront of her all the way to London. The duke met her at Paddington.Eversleigh again placed the box on the front seat of the carriage, theduke and duchess, sitting side by side, having it in full view as thebrougham passed through the London streets. The diamonds, when not inactual use, were always kept, for safe custody, at Bartlett's Bank.The confidential agent of the bank was awaiting their arrival whenthe brougham reached the ducal mansion in Grosvenor Square. Thedespatch-box was taken straight to him, and, more for form's sake thananything else, was opened by the duchess in his presence, so that hemight see that it really did contain the diamonds before he gave theusual receipt.

  It was as well for the bank's sake that on that occasion the form wasobserved. When the box was opened, it was empty! There was nothing ofany sort to show that the diamonds had ever been in it--they hadvanished into air!

  When he had reached this point Mr. Paxton put the paper down. Helaughed.

  "That's a teaser. The position seems to promise a pleasing problem forone of those masters of the art of detection who have been cuttingsuch antics lately in popular fiction. If I were appointed to ferretout the mystery, I fancy that I should begin by wanting to know a fewthings about her Grace the Duchess. I wonder what happened to thatdespatch-box while she and it were _tete-a-tete?_ It is to be hopedthat she possesses her husband's entire confidence, otherwise it isjust possible that she is in for a rare old time of it."

  The newspaper had little more to tell. There were the usual attemptsto fill a column with a paragraph; the stereotyped statements aboutthe clues which the police were supposed to be following up, but allthat they amounted to was this: that the duchess asserted that she hadplaced the diamonds in the despatch-box at Windsor Castle, and that,as a matter of plain fact, they were not in it when the box reachedGrosvenor Square.

  Mr. Paxton leaned back in his seat, thrust his hands into his trouserpockets, and mused.

  "What lucky beggars those thieves must be! What wouldn't any one dofor a quarter of a million--what wouldn't I? Even supposing that thevalue of the stones is over-stated, and that they are only worth halfas much, there is some spending in L125,000. It would set me up forlife, with a little over. What prospect is there in front of me--don'tI know that there is none? Existence in a country which I have not thefaintest desire to go to; a life which I hate; a continual strugglingand striving for the barest daily bread, with, in all humanprobability, failure, and a nameless grave at the end. What use isthere in living out such a life as that? But if I could only lay myhands on even an appreciable fraction of that quarter of a million,with Daisy at my side--God bless the girl! how ill I have treatedher!--how different it all would be!"

  Mr. Paxton was possessed by a feeling of restlessness; his thoughtspricked him in his most secret places. For him, the train was movingmuch too slowly; had it flown on the wings of the wind it couldscarcely have kept pace with the whirlwind in his brain. Rising to hisfeet, he began to move backwards and forwards in the space between theseats--anything was better than complete inaction.

  The compartment in which he was travelling was not a new one; indeed,so far was it from being a new one, that it belonged to a type which,if not actually obsolete, at any rate nowadays is rarely seen. Anoblong sheet of plate-glass was let into the partition o
n either side,within a few inches of the roof. This sheet of plate-glass was set ina brass frame, the frame itself being swung on a pivot.

  Desirous of doing anything which would enable him, even temporarily,to escape from his thoughts, Mr. Paxton gave way to his idle and, onemight almost add, impertinent curiosity. He stood, first on one seat,and peered through the glass into the adjoining compartment. So far ashe was able to see, from the post of vantage which he occupied, it wasvacant. He swung the glass round on its pivot. He listened. There wasnot a sound. Satisfied--if, that is, the knowledge gave him anysatisfaction!--that there was no one there, he prepared to repeat theprocess of espial on the other seat.

  But in this case the result was different. No sooner had he broughthis eyes on a level with the sheet of glass, than he dropped down offthe seat again with the rapidity of a jack-in-the-box.

  "By George! I've seen that man before! It would hardly do to be caughtplaying the part of Peeping Tom."

  Conscious of so much, he was also conscious at the same time of anincrease of curiosity. Among Mr. Paxton's attributes was that onewhich is supposed to be the peculiar perquisite of royalty--a memoryfor faces. If, for any cause, a face had once been brought to hisnotice, he never afterwards forgot it. He had seen through that sheetof glass a countenance which he had seen before, and that quiterecently.

  "The chances are that I sha'n't be noticed if I am careful; and if Iam caught I'll make a joke of it. I'll peep again."

  He peeped again. As he did so audible words all but escaped his lips.

  "The deuce! it's the beggar who was last night with Daisy on thepier."

  There could not be a doubt about it; in the carriage next to his satthe individual whose companionship with Miss Strong had so annoyedhim. Mr. Paxton, peering warily through the further end of the glass,treated Mr. Lawrence to a prolonged critical inspection, which was notlikely to be prejudiced in that gentleman's favour.

  Mr. Lawrence sat facing his observer, on Mr. Paxton's right, in thecorner of the carriage. That he was not alone was plain. Mr. Paxtonsaw that he smiled, and that his lips were moving. Unfortunately, fromMr. Paxton's point of view, it was not easy to see who was hisassociate; whoever it was sat just in front of him, and therefore outof Mr. Paxton's line of vision. This was the more annoying in that Mr.Lawrence took such evident interest in the conversation he wascarrying on. An idea occurred to Mr. Paxton.

  "The fellow doesn't seem to see me. When I turned that other thingupon its pivot it didn't make any sound. I wonder, if I were to openthis affair half an inch or so, if I could hear what the fellow'ssaying?"

  Mr. Paxton was not in a mood to be particular. On the contrary, he wasin one of those moods which come to all of us, in some dark hour ofour lives, when we do the things which, being done, we never ceaseregretting. Mr. Paxton knelt on the cushions and he opened the frame,as he had said, just half an inch, and he put his ear as close to theopening as he conveniently could, without running the risk of beingseen, and he listened. At first he heard nothing for his pains. He hadnot got his ear just right, and the roar of the train drowned allother sounds. Slightly shifting his position Mr. Paxton suddenlyfound, however, that he could hear quite well.

  The speakers, to make themselves audible to each other, had to shoutnearly at the top of their voices, and this, secure in their privacy,they did, the result being that Mr. Paxton could hear just as wellwhat was being said as the person who, to all intents and purposes,was seated close beside him.

  The first voice he heard was Mr. Lawrence's.

  It should be noted that here and there he lost a word, as probablyalso did the person who was actually addressed; but the general senseof the conversation he caught quite well.

  "I told you I could do it. You only want patience and resolution totake advantage of your opportunities, and a big coup is as easilycarried off as a small one."

  Mr. Lawrence's voice ceased. The rejoinder came from a voice whichstruck Mr. Paxton as being a very curious one indeed. The speakerspoke not only with a strong nasal twang, but also, occasionally, withan odd idiom. The unseen listener told himself that the speaker wasprobably the newest thing in races--"a German-American."

  "With the assistance of a friend--eh?"

  Mr. Lawrence's voice again; in it more than a suggestion of scorn.

  "The assistance of a friend! When it comes to the scratch, it is onhimself that a man must rely. What a friend principally does is totake the lion's share of the spoil."

  "Well--why not? A man will not be able to be much of a friend toanother, if, first of all, he is not a friend to himself--eh?"

  Mr. Lawrence appeared to make no answer--possibly he did not relishthe other's reasoning. Presently the same voice came again, as if thespeaker intended to be apologetic--

  "Understand me, my good friend, I do not say that what you did was notclever. No, it was damn clever!--that I do say. And I always have saidthat there was no one in the profession who can come near you. In yourline of business, or out of it, how many are there who can touch for aquarter of a million, I want to know? Now, tell me, how did you doit--is it a secret, eh?"

  If Mr. Lawrence had been piqued, the other's words seemed to haveappeased him.

  "Not from you--the thing was as plain as walking! The bigger the thingyou have to do the more simply you do it the better it will be done."

  "It does not seem as though it were simple when you read it in thepapers--eh? What do you think?"

  "The papers be damned! Directly you gave me the office that she wasgoing to take them with her to Windsor, I saw how I was going to getthem, and who I was going to get them from."

  "Who--eh?"

  "Eversleigh. Stow it--the train is stopping!"

  The train was stopping. It had reached a station. The voices ceased.Mr. Paxton withdrew from his listening place with his brain in agreater whirl than ever. What had the two men been talking about? Whatdid they mean by touching for a quarter of a million, and thereference to Windsor? The name which Mr. Lawrence had just mentioned,Eversleigh--where, quite recently, had he made its acquaintance? Mr.Paxton's glance fell on the evening paper which he had thrown on theseat. He snatched it up. Something like a key to the riddle came tohim in a flash!

  He opened the paper with feverish hands, turning to the account of therobbery of the Duchess of Datchet's diamonds. It was as he thought;his memory had not played him false--the person who had been in chargeof the gems had been a man named Stephen Eversleigh.

  Mr. Paxton's hands fell nervelessly on to his knees. He stared intovacancy. What did it mean?

  The train was off again. Having heard so much, Mr. Paxton felt that hemust hear more. He returned to the place of listening. For somemoments, while the train was drawing clear of the station, the voicescontinued silent--probably before exchanging further confidences theywere desirous of being certain that their privacy would remainuninterrupted. When they were heard again it seemed that theconversation was being carried on exactly at the point at which Mr.Paxton had heard it cease.

  The German-American was speaking.

  "Eversleigh?--that is His Grace's confidential servant--eh?"

  "That's the man. I studied Mr. Eversleigh by proxy, and I found outjust two things about him."

  "And they were--what were they?"

  "One was that he was short-sighted, and the other was that he had apair of spectacles which the duke had given him for a birthdaypresent, and which he thought no end of."

  "That wasn't much to find out--eh?"

  "You think so? Then that's where you're wrong. It's perhaps just aswell for you that you don't have to play first lead."

  "The treasury is more in my line--eh? However, what was the use whichyou made of that little find of yours?"

  "If it hadn't been for that little find of mine, the possibility isthat the sparklers wouldn't be where they are just now. A friend ofmine had a detective camera. Those spectacles were kept in somethingvery gorgeous in cases. My friend snapped that spectacle case with hiscamera
. I had an almost exact duplicate made of the case from theprint he got--purposely not quite exact, you know, but devilish near.

  "I found myself at Windsor Station just as Her Grace was about tostart for town. There were a good many people in the booking-officethrough which you have to pass to reach the platform. As I expected,the duchess came in front, with the maid, old Eversleigh bringing upthe rear. Just as Eversleigh came into the booking-office some onetouched him on the shoulder, and held out that duplicate spectaclecase, saying, 'I beg your pardon, sir! Have you lost your glasses?' Ofold Eversleigh's fidelity I say nothing. I don't call merestraightness anything;--but he certainly wasn't up to the kindof job he had in hand--not when he was properly handled. He has beenheard to say that he would sooner lose an arm than those preciousspectacles--because the duke gave them to him, you know. Perhaps hewould; anyhow, he lost something worth a trifle more than his arm.When he felt himself touched on the shoulder, and saw what looked likethat almighty goggle-box in the stranger's hand, he got all of aflurry, jabbed his fist into the inside pocket of his coat, and toenable him to do so popped the despatch-box down on the seat besidehim--as I expected that he would do. I happened to be sitting on thatseat with a rug, very nicely screened too by old Eversleigh himself,and by the stranger with the goggle-box. I nipped my rug over his box,leaving another one--own brother to the duchess's--exposed. OldEversleigh found that the stranger's goggle-box was not his--that hisown was safe in his pocket!--picked up my despatch-box, and marchedoff with it, while I travelled with his by the South-Western line totown; and I can only hope that he was as pleased with the exchange asI was."

  The German-American's voice was heard.

  "As you say, in the simplicity of your method, my good friend, was itsbeauty. And indeed, after all, simplicity is the very essence, thevery soul, of all true art--eh?"