CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A CONTRETEMPS
The stout, round-faced Frenchman rose, and, bowing with his irritatingpoliteness, answered--
"I wish to consult you, Monsieur Biddulph, upon a confidential matterconcerning your wife."
"What does my wife concern you, pray, sir?" I asked angrily.
"Ah! calm yourself, m'sieur," he said suddenly, dropping into French;"I am here as your friend."
"I hardly believe that," I replied incredulously. "My friend cannot bethe accomplice of my enemies. You are acquainted with Reckitt and withPennington--the men implicated in the recent theft of the diamonds ofthe Archduchess Marie Louise!"
He started and looked at me quickly.
"What do you know of that?" he inquired, with rather undue eagerness.
"I know more concerning you than you think," was my firm reply. "And Igive you an alternative, Monsieur Guertin. Either you will reveal tome the whole truth concerning those men Reckitt and Forbes and mywife's connection with them, or I shall telephone to the police, andhave you arrested as a member of the gang."
"My dear monsieur," he replied, with a good-humoured smile, "I can'ttell you facts of which I possess no knowledge. I am here to makeinquiry of you--to----"
"To mislead me further!" I cried angrily. "You and your friends may beextremely clever--you have succeeded in enticing my wife away from herhome, and you expect to befool me further. Remember that I nearly lostmy life in that grim house in Bayswater. Therefore at least I cansecure the arrest of one member of the gang."
"And you would arrest me--eh?" he asked, looking me straight in theface, suddenly growing serious.
"Yes, I intend to," I replied, whipping out my revolver from my hippocket.
"Put that thing away," he urged. "Be reasonable. What would you profitby arresting me?"
"You shall either speak--tell me the truth, or I will hand you over tothe police. I have only to touch this bell"--and I raised my hand tothe electric button beside the fireplace--"and a telephone messagewill call a constable."
"And you really would give me in charge--eh?" laughed my visitor.
"I certainly intend doing so," I answered angrily.
"Well, before this is done, let us speak frankly for a few moments,"suggested the Frenchman. "You tell me that you nearly lost your lifein some house in Bayswater. Where was that?"
"In Porchester Terrace. What is the use of affecting ignorance?"
"I do not affect ignorance," he said, and I saw that a change hadcompletely overspread his countenance. "I only wish to know the extentof your knowledge of Reckitt and Forbes."
"I have but little knowledge of your friends, I'm pleased to say," wasmy quick rejoinder. "Let us leave them out of the question. What Idesire to know is the whereabouts of my wife."
He shrugged his broad shoulders.
"I regret that I have no knowledge of where madame may be."
"But you have!" I cried, facing him angrily. "She is probably withPennington, her father, who seems to be one of your undesirablefraternity."
"No, she is not with him, most certainly," my visitor declared. "Iknow that for a fact. She is probably with Lewis."
"And who is this fellow Lewis?" I demanded.
For a moment he was silent.
"I think you had better ask madame, your wife," he replied at last.
"Do you intend to cast a slur upon her?" I cried, facing himresentfully.
"Not in the least," was his cool answer. "I have merely replied toyour question."
"And have given me most impertinent advice! Will you, or will you not,tell me who the fellow is?"
"At present, monsieur, I must refuse."
"Then I shall press the bell, and give you into custody."
"Ah!" he laughed, "that will be distinctly amusing."
"For me, perhaps--not for you."
"Monsieur is at liberty to act as he deems best," said my visitor.
Therefore, irritated by the fellow's manner, and in the hope that hewould at the eleventh hour relent, I pressed the bell.
It rang loudly, and I heard old Browning go to the telephone beneaththe stairs. In a few minutes the constable would arrive, and at leastone member of the dangerous gang would be secured.
"Perhaps you will let me pass," he said, crossing towards the doorimmediately after I had rung the bell. But I placed myself against it,revolver in hand, preventing him and holding him at bay.
"Very well," he laughed. "I fear, Mr. Biddulph, that you are notacting judiciously. You refuse to accept my statement that I am hereas your friend!"
"Because you, on your part, refuse to reply to my questions."
But he only shrugged his shoulders again without replying.
"You know quite well where my wife is."
"Alas! I do not," the fellow declared emphatically. "It was to obtaininformation that I called."
"You cannot deny that you know that pair of criminals, Reckitt andForbes?"
"I have surely not denied knowledge of them!"
"Yet you refuse to tell me who this man is who enticed my wife from myside--the man who presided over that secret council at the GeorgeHotel at Stamford!"
"I am prepared to be frank with you in return for your frankness,monsieur," he answered.
But I saw in his evasive replies an intention to mislead me into abelief that he was actuated towards me by friendly motives. Thereforemy antagonism increased. He had defied me, and I would give him intocustody.
Presently there came a loud knocking at the door, and, upon my openingit, a police-sergeant stood upon the threshold.
"I give this man into custody," I said, addressing him and pointing tothe Frenchman.
"Upon what charge, sir?" asked the burly officer, whose broadshoulders filled the doorway, while I saw a constable standing behindhim.
"On suspicion of being associated with the theft of the diamonds ofthe Archduchess Marie Louise," I replied.
"Come, monsieur," laughed my visitor, speaking again in English, "Ithink we have carried this sufficiently far." And, placing his hand inhis breast-pocket, he produced a small folded yellow card bearing hisphotograph, which he handed to me. "Read that!" he added, with a laughof triumph.
I saw that the printed card was headed "Prefecture de Police, Ville deParis," and that it was signed, countersigned, and bore a large redofficial seal.
Quickly I scanned it, and, to my abject dismay, realized that HenriGuertin was chief of the first section of the _surete_--he was one ofthe greatest detectives of France!
I stammered something, and then, turning to the sergeant, red andashamed, I admitted that I had made a mistake in attempting to arrestso distinguished an official.
The two metropolitan officers held the card in their hands, and,unable to read French, asked me to translate it for them, which I did.
"Why," cried the sergeant, "Monsieur Guertin is well known! His namefigures in the papers only this morning as arresting two Englishmen inParis for a mysterious murder alleged to have been committed in somehouse in Bayswater!"
"In Bayswater!" I gasped. "In Porchester Terrace?"
"Yes," replied the famous French detective. "It is true that I knowReckitt and Forbes. But I only knew them in order to get at the truth.They never suspected me, and early yesterday morning I went to thesnug little apartments they have in the Rue de Rouen, and arrestedthem, together with two young Frenchmen named Terassier and Brault.Concealed beneath a loose board in the bedroom of the last-named man Ifound the missing gems."
"Then Terassier and Brault were the two men who met the others inStamford, and carried the diamonds across to the Continent, intendingto dispose of them?"
"Exactly. There was a hitch in disposing of them in Amsterdam, as hadbeen intended, and though the diamonds had been knocked from theirsettings, I found them intact."
He told me that Forbes was the actual thief, who had so daringlytravelled to Finsbury Park and collected the tickets _en route_. Hehad practically confessed to hav
ing thrown the bag out to Reckitt andPennington, who were waiting at a point eight miles north ofPeterborough. They had used an electric flash-lamp as they stood inthe darkness near the line, and the thief, on the look-out for thelight, tossed the bag out on to the embankment.
"Then my father-in-law is a thief!" I remarked, with chagrin, when thesergeant and constable had been dismissed. "It was for that reason mywife dare not face me and make explanation!"
"You apparently believe Arnold Du Cane, alias Winton, aliasPennington, to be Sylvia's father--but such is not the case," remarkedthe great detective slowly. "To his career attaches a very remarkablestory--one which, in my long experience in the unravelling ofmysteries of crime, has never been equalled."
"Tell me it," I implored him eagerly. "Where is my poor wife?"
Hushed Up! A Mystery of London Page 29
