Part 11

Mr. Meyer did not appear to have heard him. "Strange, is it not?" he resumed, "dat you and I and Mr. Marvell, de clever detective, should be here, Mr. Lucas? No, I will call you by your broper name. Sir Rubert Inkledree, I ask you to listen."

He took up a red volume from the table.

"Dis is a useful book," he said, as he opened it. "We are all entered up here, all our public appearances, dat is--not our midnight photokraphings. Ah, here it is:

"'Sir Rubert Inkledree, seventh baronet, born 1868, only son of sixth baronet and Mary, daughter of Viscount Morecambe. Educated Eton and Christ Church, Oxford. Owns twenty tousand acres. Address: Inkledree Castle, Leicestershire; 57, Brook Street, W. Clubs: Bachelor's, Boodle's, Turf.'

"Dat is fine--for a bekinning," continued Meyer; "but what an end, Sir Rubert, in dis room wid Mr. Meyer whom you have robbed, and a detective, and de Bournemouth Police Court in de morning. Dat is not very fine. Now listen akain."

He turned over the leaves and read:--

"'Adolph Meyer, born 1864. Financier. Son of Jacob Meyer of Düsseldorf. M.A. London University, Commander of de Victorian Order, Chevalier of de Legion of Honour. Address: 16, Lombard Street, E.C., and St. George's Island, Bournemouth.' Dat is all. Dere are no clubs and no acres. I have de orders because I did service to England and France. I am M.A. of London University because, when I was a young man behind de counter in de bank all day, I worked for my dekree by night; and now I am here, and you are where I like to put you, Sir Rubert Inkledree."

"Bournemouth Police Station," suggested Mr. Marvell, who was aching to get to business.

"Bournemouth Police Station?" repeated Mr. Meyer slowly. "No, Mr. Marvell; I tink not. I am Master of Arts of London University and reader of Blato, letting alone de odder dings. He shall go free, and Mr. Marvell, you will blease forket de incident. I telekraft for you on Saturday. You came, but dere was noding. Dat is what you will report, please, at Scotland Yard.

"But you, Sir Rubert, you will not forket. You will remember. You will neider kill nor rob akain, because it is de wish of Mr. Adolph Meyer, who makes you free instead of sending you to de Police Station.

"Also, Sir Rubert, I suchest dat you give up dat Club dat Mr. Marvell speaks of. See, you have my Holbein in your pocket. Take it, since you want it. Show it to your friends, and say dat Mr. Meyer, who is M.A. of London University, Commander, Chevalier and tcheneral treamer, says dat dey had better disbant, for de stars are singing, and Mr. Marvell is watching."

Mr. Marvell folded up his handcuffs methodically, and replaced them in his pocket. He was too well trained to show the intense disgust he felt at the turn the proceedings had taken.

Again the burglar endeavoured to speak, but once more Mr. Meyer commanded silence.

"Mr. Marvell will see you to your boat, Sir Rubert," he said. "I drust dat you will weigh my words well. It is not often dat I say so many, and dey have caused me some inconvenience to speak, as I am not accustomed to spend Monday nights in my marine villa. To be here I had dis afternoon to postpone an interview wid de Turkish Ambassador, which I have since learnt by telekram from Constantinople has been misconstrued. De Sultan will not sleep much to-night, and in de morning newspapers dere will be talk of drouble in de Balkan States. Some peoples will be fearing war, Sir Rubert, and all on account of you and your midnight photokraphings. I wonder what Dommas Carlyle would say to a mess like dat. Goot night."

Mr. Meyer turned abruptly on his heels, and left the room.

"Come along, Sir Rupert, please," said Mr. Marvell. In the brilliant moonshine they went along the terrace by the stone dogs, and down the steps to the beach. They found the boat by the trees.

"How did Mr. Meyer come to suspect my errand?" said Ingletree suddenly.

The detective smiled a wan smile.

"Well, sir," he replied, "I wasn't present when you saw him on Saturday, but I think that Mr. Meyer read you through as if you were a book--printed in pretty big letters, too. It was a rather thin tale, that about the magazine article, and when you asked to see round the house Mr. Meyer was certain that you had some special object in view. When you inquired after the miniatures he knew what you were after, as the papers had lately been full of the Holbein. To make sure on the point he didn't show it to you, and of course you asked to see it. Then he telegraphed to Scotland Yard, and they sent me."

"How did you find out who I was, and why I wanted the miniature?"

"Ah," said Mr. Marvell drily, "I'll tell you that some day later on, Sir Rupert. We shall probably meet again."

Then the baronet put out to sea, and the detective went back to the Tuscan Villa.

* * * * *

On the following evening, at the meeting of the Burglars' Club, the Secretary produced the Holbein miniature, and read a letter from Sir Rupert Ingletree which accompanied it. Then the President rose.

"My lords and gentlemen," he said, "we have just heard the singular adventure which has befallen one of our members. The Holbein miniature is here, but only owing to the goodwill of its owner. Sir Rupert Ingletree is at liberty owing to the forbearance of the same gentleman. Under the circumstances I think we have no option but to accept the resignation of Sir Rupert, who does not appear to have acted with the adroitness which is a necessary qualification of our members. It may well be that you or I would have done no better under similar circumstances, but I need hardly remind you that in this club we judge only by results, and the results in this instance are not satisfactory.

"There is a further matter to consider--a message from Mr. Meyer, which demands a reply. Colonel Altamont, as the _doyen_ of our club, we look to your premature grey hairs for guidance."

Altamont rose amidst general applause.

"Your Grace, my lords and gentlemen," he began. "It is surely unnecessary to ask for my opinion on the situation. Our existence is now known to the outside world. Twice has this detective, Marvell, been within reach of us. Someone has betrayed us, and I for one do not intend to rest until I have traced that traitor. But this is not the matter before us now.

"Though Mr. Meyer objects to sport, he has behaved like a perfect sportsman. (Hear, hear.) For his courtesy we wish to express our hearty thanks and appreciation; but for his suggestion that we should disband we surely have one answer only, and that is: Never, never, never."

The words were re-echoed on all sides.

"Our club would indeed have fallen on degenerate days," continued Altamont, when quiet was restored, "if the fact of its existence being known were promptly to bring about its end. Surely the fact that we are watched should give an added zest to our proceedings, which have been all too monotonously serene. The knowledge that Scotland Yard is acting, and that we carry our personal liberty in our hands, should spur us on to the Homeric deeds for the perpetration of which we exist.

"Ingletree's postscript is pathetic, and vividly shows the present unbalanced state of his mind. He asks whether we consider that under Mr. Meyer's terms he is at liberty to fish. My own feeling is that I would have suffered a long period of incarceration rather than have surrendered my right to act as a free and independent Englishman; but Ingletree, having accepted his liberty on Mr. Meyer's stupendous terms, has surely forfeited his right to again take life in any form. If he so much as nets a minnow he has no option but to surrender himself forthwith at the Bournemouth Police Station.

"We all regret the loss of our once brilliant member, but it is obvious from Ingletree's behaviour during the last few days that he is not the man he was when he paid his entrance fee by the production of--what was it, Mr. Secretary?--the Mace of the House of Commons?"

"No, sir," replied the Secretary. "That was Mr. Henderson's fee. Sir Rupert Ingletree entered with the Portland Vase, from the British Museum."

"Ah, quite so. Thank you. And a very smart bit of work it was, I remember. It is regrettable that Sir Rupert could not be here in person this evening to advance any extenuating circumstances; but as he is probably under the surveillance of Scotland Yard we appreciate his reason for adopting the medium of the Postmaster-General for communicating with us. I therefore propose that Sir Rupert Ingletree's resignation be accepted, and that, with the Holbein picture, which we at once return to its owner in accordance with our rule, we send a letter expressing our appreciation of Mr. Meyer's magnanimity, and our regret that we are unable to disband. We can leave it to our Secretary to couch this in the neat epigrammatic style for which he is famed in the Chancelleries of Europe."

XI.

THE VICTORIA CROSS.

"IT seems to me," said his Grace of Dorchester, "that the Army has been abominably neglected by us. On looking through our archives, I do not come across the record of a single military achievement. In the Church and in the State, in Diplomacy and Commerce, in Science, Art, and Literature, our activities are marked, but we have unaccountably left the Services alone. Our enemies--if such there be--might unkindly suggest that we have purposely refrained from interfering with the most vigorous portion of the community. To avoid this reproach, and to make good the omission, I therefore propose a series of three military raids, the first to be immediately undertaken by Mr. Maxwell-Pitt, who will have the opportunity of renewing his subscription at our next meeting by the production of the last Victoria Cross bestowed by His Majesty."

As the result of inquiries, Mr. Maxwell-Pitt learned that the last Victoria Cross had been given to Captain Sefton Richards, who had rescued a wounded soldier from the Somali, and, single-handed, had kept the enemy at bay till support arrived.

"H'm!" reflected Maxwell-Pitt. "He'll be a tough customer to tackle. It strikes me that if I pull this off I shall have earned the Blue Riband of the Club. I wonder where the beggar is stationed?"

Further inquiries elicited the fact that Captain Richards was at present spending his well-earned leave with his sister, who lived at Bamburn, in Lincolnshire.

The next meeting of the Club had been fixed for the 22nd of the month. On the 19th Maxwell-Pitt set out for Bamburn.

It was an ancient country town. Once it had been an ecclesiastical centre--as its minster still bore witness--but now it was given up to the sale of sheep and the manufacture of chocolate. In its outskirts was a number of highly eligible residences, and in one of these, the bequest of an uncle who was the inventor of chocolate caramels, lived Miss Richards.

Maxwell-Pitt learnt some of this from the local directory, and some from the waiter at the inn, the night of his arrival; and on the following morning he made his way to the neighbourhood of Burgoyne Lodge--so Miss Richards' house was styled--and sat down on a seat thoughtfully provided by the local district council. He waited there a long time, apparently deeply absorbed in the columns of a sporting paper, but in reality rarely taking his eyes from the house.

At eleven o'clock his patience was rewarded. The gate opened, and two people came out. The man--tall, straight, and bronzed--was obviously Captain Richards, the lady probably his sister. Mr. Maxwell-Pitt saw them disappear along the road in the direction of the town, and then he approached the house to take in its bearings. It was the last building on the road, and it was closely surrounded by a belt of trees; behind the trees were thick bushes. This screen effectually concealed the house from the road--for the inventor of chocolate caramels had been a recluse by nature--so, in order to obtain a better view of it, Maxwell-Pitt got over the wall, and peered through the bushes.

It was a solid Georgian dwelling, with two windows on each side of the door. Which window should he attempt to force? The end ones would be farthest from the hall, and perhaps the safest. Or would it be better to try the back? Confound it!

His eyes had been so intently fixed on the house that he had omitted to notice an occupant of the garden, but now he was aware that a trimly and plainly gowned little woman who was engaged in cutting flowers had stopped in her work, and was watching him. The position was ridiculous. What excuse could he offer? He turned round, got over the wall again, and walked quickly away, with the conviction that he had made a blunder, criminal in a professional, and unpardonable even for an amateur.

During the afternoon, while he was walking down the main street of the town, wondering at the number of sheep the land contained--for it was market day--he came face to face with the same good-looking, dapper little person he had seen in the grounds of Burgoyne Lodge. She had appeared from a side street, and no escape was open to him. He fixed his eyes on the celebrated Perpendicular architecture of the minster tower, hoping to escape her attention, but, to his surprise, she stopped him.

"Pardon me, I think we have seen one another before," she said slowly, and with a marked foreign intonation.

"Of course we have," he replied, as he took off his hat. "I remember the occasion perfectly. How do you do?" Then he added, unblushingly, "And how is your sister?"

"I thank you," she answered. "My sister would, no doubt, be quite well if I had one. But please do not make romances. I saw you this morning at Burgoyne Lodge. I know what you want."

"The dickens you do!" he exclaimed in blank amazement. "And pray what is it?"

"I think it is something that does not belong to you," she said, her dark eyes looking steadily at him.

"Indeed! And how do you know that?"

She shrugged her shoulders expressively. "_Cela n'importe_," she answered. "If you please, let us walk on so that we do not draw attention. Yes, I know what you want, and I think that I can assist you a little."

"It's very good of you to suggest it," said Maxwell-Pitt as they walked along the street; "and I'm sure I'm much obliged to you. I'm not accustomed to this sort of business, you know."

"You have made the same business once before," she said.

"You are really remarkably well informed," he replied. "The least you can do is to tell me how you come to know these things."

"Do not waste the time," she said impatiently. "I am Adèle, Miss Richards' maid. She is in town with her brother, the captain. They must not see us together. When do you intend to--to----" She hesitated.

"To pick mushrooms, shall we call it?" he answered.

"To--pick--mushrooms?" she repeated, with a puzzled look. Then she smiled. "Ah, I understand. Yes, when do you intend to pick the fine mushrooms?"

"As soon as I know where they are, and how to get them. If you assist me it will, of course, make matters easy for me."

"To-night?"

"Mademoiselle, you are a thought-reader. You anticipate my wishes. To-night, by all means."

"Then I will see that one of the windows is left unlatched. _Mon Dieu!_ Meet me here at this place at nine o'clock." With this she turned abruptly round the corner they were passing, and disappeared into a shop.

Maxwell-Pitt glanced ahead, and saw Captain and Miss Richards approaching. They might not have seen him with the maid, for they were in earnest conversation. Captain Richards only glanced casually at him in passing.

"Well, this is what I call remarkable--simply re-markable," said Maxwell-Pitt to himself as he walked to his hotel. "How on earth should she know of the V.C. business, and, what is more, that I had to pay my entrance fee by a previous burglary? Who could have told her? I wonder why any member should be so extremely anxious to assist me. . . . Stop! Was it really a member? There's that man Marvell--the detective. He has been present at two former burglaries--called in by accident, certainly, but he has his eye on us, and perhaps he now has some means of finding out in advance the task set to members. The remarkably obliging Adèle may be merely a female detective. She may assist me to get into the house, and show me where the V.C. is, and then, when I get it, her friend Marvell will appear. In that case Richards and his sister are in the know, and this apparently casual meeting just now, and Adèle's annoyance, was pre-arranged to throw me off the scent. It seems to me, Maxwell-Pitt, that you'll have to be very careful what you are about, or you'll be landed to-night, and by a woman."

That evening he kept his appointment at the street-corner. The maid was late. The clocks had chimed the quarter before she came, hot and breathless--not her cool, nonchalant self of the morning.

"It has been so difficult to leave," she explained. "Miss Richards would have me to read to her after the dinner. Walter Scott! And me dying all the time to be here, Mr.---- What shall I call you?"

"Jones," said Maxwell-Pitt, "is a dreamy, romantic name, very suitable for a mushroom picker."

"Yes; Jones is a beautiful name," she replied. "Have you decided to pick to-night, Mr. Jones?"

"I should like to."

"You wish me to leave that window open?"

"If you will."

"And what do you give me, if you please?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What am I going to have of it all?"

"'All.' That is rather a big word for the little mushroom I shall take away; but if you would like some memento of the occasion, what shall it be? A bracelet?"

"A bracelet? _Comment!_ Absurd! With my help, _m'sieu_, it will not be a little mushroom, _point du tout_. For me myself I demand fifty pounds."

Maxwell-Pitt stared at her blankly.

"What is it now?" she cried angrily. "_Mais_, you are too stupid--more stupid than the ordinary Englishman. Miss Richards has some fine pearls, and her diamonds are _magnifiques_, and I can give them to you. This is not to be another Wedderburn mistake."

"Ah, quite so--quite so," replied Maxwell-Pitt, who was absolutely nonplussed by the turn the conversation had taken. Then he drew his bow at a venture. "Wedderburn made a bit of a mistake, didn't he?" he said.

She looked at him sharply. "'He.' Who's 'he'? You know precisely that I speak of the burglary at Wedderburn 'Ouse last week, where you were not very clever."

"Oh, of course, of course. I understand," said Maxwell-Pitt.

"Of course you do understand. Why do you so pretend to me? I knew it was you when I saw you seeking round our 'ouse. I saw you were big and dark, with a long moustache, like the butler at Wedderburn 'Ouse said. How else did you think I could have known you were a burglar? You are to look at only like a gentleman?"

"Ah, I see--I see," said Maxwell-Pitt, the light at last breaking in upon him. "It seems that I have done friend Marvell an injustice."

"I do not know who your friend is, nor what you talk about," said Mademoiselle Adèle. "I must return at once. Is it to be a bargain or not? Fifty pounds is little compared to your share."

"Mademoiselle," said Maxwell-Pitt, "you are not only an accomplished thought-reader, but you appear to have the business instinct strongly developed as well. You can quite understand that when I planned this--er--botanical expedition I did not anticipate such a drain on my resources. In plain words, I haven't fifty pounds on me."

"You can get it, and come to-morrow night instead."

"There will still be time," said Maxwell-Pitt thoughtfully.

"Of course there will. Now I go. It is settled?"

"Yes; I'll come to-morrow night and bring fifty pounds with me."

"In gold sovereigns, please."

"In gold, if you wish it."

"Good. And I'll have the jewellery ready. The pearl necklace cost more than a thousand sovereigns. There will be no need to take anything else, I hope. That big mushroom should satisfy you enough."

"Amply. I don't want any more jewels, but where does Captain Richards keep his decorations--his Victoria Cross, for instance?"

"You don't want that?"

"I do."

"It is only worth a few centimes--not half a franc, they tell me."

"Never mind its value. I am a collector of such trifles, and want this specimen particularly."

"He won it in battle. It would be cruel--abominable--to take it. You cannot have it."

"Mademoiselle Adèle, your scruples do you credit; but, after all, are mushroom-pickers the people to talk about scruples? Here you are planning what is, in plain English, the robbery of your employer, so why stick at a trifle like that?"

"_Écoutez_, Mr. Jones. You are only a burglar, so your opinion is no matter, but I shall tell you why I do this thing. I come to your country to get riches. I am clever, but there are no riches, even for clever people, in my own valley of the Durance. First I was maid to one lady with a title so long," and she extended her arms to their full width. "I was 'appy. Then I met an aëronaut--you understand, one who makes ascensions in a balloon--who talked my language like myself. He persuades me to leave my place and marry him. I was idiot to do so. Then one day he goes up in his balloon at--what you call it?--Birmingham, for a brief voyage. But he disappears in the clouds. He sends me postcard from Ostend to tell me that he is landed all-right. Then I never found him again."

She paused dramatically. Maxwell-Pitt felt that something was demanded of him, and hastened to murmur some words of sympathy, but she did not listen.

"Then I took a place again as lady's maid," she went on. "There was trouble over some jewels. They blamed me. Bah! I was innocent. But they say 'No,' and 'You go at once,' and 'No character.' So I am alone in England, with no money and _mon mari_ gone. I come here, and I think this lady so kind to take me without a character written. Then I find the ones who have the characters written will not stay with her--not one month--so that is why she takes me. She is black slave-driver, and her temper--_mon Dieu_, it is dis-graceful! It is a horrible time here. Then there is Alphonse, who is waiter at the Élysée Palace, who wants me to marry him and assist him to found a restaurant, and I must continually tell him 'Wait.'

"When I see you, Mr. Jones, I see my way to escape from it all. It came at one jump--the thought, 'I will help him, and he will give me fifty gold sovereigns, and I shall go to Belgium at once. My 'usband is either dead, or I find him and tell him what I think of him, and get a divorce, and then return and marry the good Alphonse, who adores me.' So you see that I am no common thief. Bah! As for madame's jewellery, _ça ne fait rien_. She is rich. I shall be glad to have annoyed her. But at once I tell you, you shall not have the Victoria Medal. That is not to be. Captain Richards is the only man in this miserable country who has been kind to me. And he is a brave soldier. I shall not permit that you annoy him."

"I promise to return it."

"Then for why do you take it?"

"That is my affair. I will bring the fifty pounds to-morrow night, but I must have the cross whether you help me to get it or not. Where does he keep it?"

"Keep it? _Attendez._ Oh, I know. In the strong box locked in his bedroom. He is a man to shoot certain, and he always has his pistol to hand. You will give me the money instantly you are in the 'ouse, for if you go upstairs you will be a dead man at once. I tell you so myself."

"That is an extremely unpleasant prospect. I must see my lawyer--my _notaire_, mademoiselle--in the morning, and arrange my affairs. Which window will you unlatch for me?"

"The one at the front, the nearest to where you stood when I saw you. If you will come at one o'clock I will be in the room with the beautiful pearls. Now I must fly. _Bon soir, cher_ Mr. Jones."