The Datchet Diamonds Read online

  CHAPTER VII

  THE DATCHET DIAMONDS ARE PLACED IN SAFE CUSTODY

  When the morning came, and Mr. Paxton found himself beingcross-examined by the manager, with every probability of his, lateron, having to undergo an examination by the police, he was as taciturnas possible. Although he was by no means sorry that he had fired thatshot, and so effectually frightened the man upon the ladder, he wouldinfinitely rather that less fuss had been made about it afterwards.

  One thing Mr. Paxton had decided to do before he left his bedroom. Hehad decided to remove the Datchet diamonds to a place of safety. ThatMr. Lawrence and his friends had a very shrewd notion that they werein his possession was plain; that they were disposed to stick atnothing which would enable them to get hold of them again was, ifpossible, plainer. Mr. Paxton was resolute that they should not havethem, who ever did.

  It happened that, in his more prosperous days, he had rented one ofthe Chancery Lane Deposit Company's safes. Nor was the term of histenancy at an end. He determined to do a bold, and, one might add, animpudent thing. He would carry the duchess' diamonds back with him totown, lock them in the safe he rented, and then, whatever mighthappen, nobody but himself would ever be able to have access to themagain. He had the Gladstone bag brought up to his bedroom, removedfrom it the precious parcel, returned the bag itself to the manager'skeeping, and, declining to have his morning meal at the hotel, went upby the Pullman train to town, and breakfasted on board. He flatteredhimself that whoever succeeded in taking from him the diamonds beforehis arrival with them in Chancery Lane, would have to be a very cleverperson.

  Still, he did not manage to reach his journey's end without having hadone or two little adventures by the way.

  He drove up from the hotel to the station in a hansom cab. As hestepped into the cab he noticed, standing on the kerbstone a little tothe left of the hotel entrance, a man who wore his billycock a gooddeal on the side of his head, and who had a cigar sticking out of thecorner of his mouth.

  He should not have particularly observed the fellow had not the man,as soon as he found Mr. Paxton's eyes turned in his direction,performed a right-about-face on his heels, and presented an almostostentatious view of the middle of the back. When Mr. Paxton's cabrattled into the central yard, and Mr. Paxton proceeded to step outfrom it on to the pavement, another hansom came dashing up behind hisown, and from it there alighted the man who had turned his back on himin front of the hotel. As Mr. Paxton took his ticket this man was athis side. And, having purchased his morning paper, as he strolled upthe platform towards the train, he noticed that the fellow was only afew steps in his rear.

  There seemed to be no reasonable room for doubt that the man wasacting as his shadow. No one likes to feel that he is under espionage.And Mr. Paxton in particular felt that just recently he had enduredenough of that kind of thing to last--if his own tastes were to beconsulted--for the remainder of his life. He decided to put a stopthere and then to, at any rate, this man's persecution. Suddenlystanding still, wheeling sharply round, Mr. Paxton found himself faceto face with the individual with his hat on the side of his head.

  "Are you following me?"

  Mr. Paxton's manner as he asked the question, though polite, meantmischief. The other seemed to be a little taken aback. Then, with animpudent air, taking what was left of his cigar out of his mouth, heblew a volume of smoke full into Mr. Paxton's eyes.

  "Were you speaking to me?"

  Mr. Paxton's fingers itched to knock the smoker down. But situated ashe was, a row in public just then would have been sheer madness. Headopted what was probably an even more effective plan. He signalled toa passing official.

  "Guard!" The man approached. "This person has been following me frommy hotel. Be so good as to call a constable. His proceedings requireexplanation."

  The man began to bluster.

  "What do you mean by saying I've been following you? Who are you, Ishould like to know? Can't any one move about except yourself?Following you, indeed! It's more likely that you've been followingme!"

  A constable came up. Mr. Paxton addressed him in his cool, incisivetones.

  "Officer, this person has followed me from my hotel to the station;from the station to the booking-office; from the booking-office to thebookstall; and now he is following me from the bookstall to the train.I have some valuable property on me, with which fact he is possiblyacquainted. Since he is a complete stranger to me, I should be obligedif you would ask him what is the cause of the unusual interest whichhe appears to take in my movements."

  The man with the cigar became apologetic.

  "The gentleman's quite mistaken; I'm not following him; I wouldn't dosuch a thing! I'm going to town by this train, and it seems that thisgentleman's going too, and perhaps that's what's made him think that Iwas following. If there's any offence, I'm sure that I beg pardon."

  The man held out his hand--it was unclean and it was big--as ifexpecting Mr. Paxton to grasp it. Mr. Paxton, however, moved awayaddressing a final observation to the constable as he went.

  "Officer, be so good as to keep an eye upon that man."

  Mr. Paxton entered the breakfast carriage. What became of the tooattentive stranger he neither stopped to see nor cared to inquire. Hesaw no more of him; that was all he wanted. As the train rushedtowards town he ate his breakfast and he read his paper.

  The chief topic of interest in the journals of the day was the robberyon the previous afternoon of the Duchess of Datchet's diamonds. Itfilled them to the almost complete exclusion of other news of topicalimportance. There were illustrations of some of the principal jewelswhich had been stolen, together with anecdotes touching on theirhistory--very curious some of them were! The Dukes of Datchet seemedto have gathered those beautiful gems, if not in ways which were dark,then occasionally, at any rate, in ways which were, to say the leastof it, peculiar. Those glittering pebbles seemed to have been mixed upwith a good deal of trickery and fraud and crime.

  The papers gave the most minute description of the more importantstones. Even the merest novice in the knowledge of brilliants, if hehad mastered those details, could scarcely fail to recognise them ifever they came his way. It appeared that few even royal collectionspossessed so large a number of really fine examples. Their valuationat a quarter of a million was the purest guesswork. The present dukewould not have accepted for them twice that sum.

  Half a million! Five hundred thousand pounds! At even 3 per cent.--andwho does not want more for his money than a miserable 3 per cent.?--that was fifteen thousand pounds a year. Three hundred pounds a week.More than forty pounds a day. Over three pounds for every workinghour. And Mr. Paxton had it in his pockets!

  It was not strange that Mr. Lawrence and his associates should betraysuch lively anxiety to regain possession of such a sum as that; itwould have been strange if they had not! It was a sum worth having;worth fighting for; worth risking something for as well.

  And yet there was something; indeed, there was a good deal, whichcould be said for the other side of the question. Mr. Paxton owned tohimself that there was. He could not honestly--if it were stillpossible to speak of honesty in connection with a gentleman who hadlaunched himself on such a venture--lay his hand upon his heart, andsay that he was happier since he had discovered what were the contentsof somebody else's Gladstone bag. On the contrary, if he could haveblotted out of his life the few hours which had intervened since theafternoon of the previous day, he would have done so, even yet, with awilling hand.

  Nor was this feeling lessened by an incident which took place on hisarrival at London Bridge. If he were of an adventurous turn of mind,evidently he could not have adopted a more certain means of gratifyinghis peculiar taste than by retaining possession of the duchess'sdiamonds. Adventures were being heaped on him galore.

  As he was walking down the platform, looking for a likely cab, someone came rushing up against him from behind with such violence as tosend him flying forward on his face. T
wo roughly dressed men assistedhim to rise. But, while undergoing their kindly ministrations, itoccurred to him, in spite of his half-dazed condition, that they wereevincing a livelier interest in the contents of his pockets than inhis regaining his perpendicular. He managed to shake them off,however, before their interest had been carried to too generous alength.

  The inevitable crowd had gathered. A man, attired as a countryman, wasvolubly explaining--with a volubility which was hardly suggestive of ayokel--that he was late for market, and was hurrying along withoutlooking where he was going, when he stumbled against the gentleman,and was so unfortunate as to knock him over. He was profuse, andindeed almost lachrymose, in his apologies for the accident which hisclumsiness had occasioned. Mr. Paxton said nothing. He did not seewhat there was to say. He dusted himself down, adjusted his hat, gotinto a cab and drove away.

  Drove straight away to Chancery Lane. And, when he had deposited theDuchess of Datchet's diamonds in his safe, and had left them behindhim in that impregnable fortress, where, if the statements of thedirectors could be believed, fire could not penetrate, nor water, norrust, nor thieves break through and steal, he felt as if a load hadbeen lifted off his mind.