by Guy Boothby
Reaching a well-known jeweller’s shop, he pulled the check string, and, the door having been opened, descended, and went inside. It was not the first time he had had dealings with the firm, and as soon as he was recognised the proprietor hastened forward himself to wait upon him.
“I want a nice wedding present for a young lady,” he said, when the other had asked what he could have the pleasure of showing him. “Diamonds, I think, for preference.”
A tray containing hairpins, brooches, rings, and aigrettes set with stones was put before him, but Carne was not satisfied. He wanted something better, he said—something a little more imposing. When he left the shop a quarter of an hour later he had chosen a diamond bracelet, for which he had paid the sum of one thousand pounds. In consequence, the jeweller bowed him to his carriage with almost Oriental obsequiousness.
As Carne rolled down the street, he took the bracelet from its case and glanced at it. He had long since made up his mind as to his line of action, and having done so, was now prepared to start business without delay. On leaving the shop, he had ordered his coachman to drive home; but on second thoughts he changed his mind, and, once more pulling the check string, substituted Berkeley Square for Park Lane.
“I must be thoroughly convinced in my own mind,” he said, “before I do anything, and the only way to do that will be to see old Greenthorpe himself without delay. I think I have a good and sufficient excuse in my pocket. At any rate, I’ll try it.”
On reaching the residence in question, he instructed his footman to inquire whether Mr. Greenthorpe was at home, and if so, if he would see him. An answer in the affirmative was soon forthcoming, and a moment later Carne and Greenthorpe were greeting each other in the library.
“Delighted to see you, my dear sir,” the latter said as he shook his guest warmly by the hand, at the same time hoping that old Sir Mowbray Mowbray next door, who was a gentleman of the old school, and looked down on the plutocracy, could see and recognise the magnificent equipage standing before his house. “This is most kind of you, and indeed I take it as most friendly too.”
Carne’s face was as smiling and fascinating as it was wont to be, but an acute observer might have read in the curves of his lips a little of the contempt he felt for the man before him. Matthew Greenthorpe’s face and figure betrayed his origin as plainly as any words could have done. If this had not been sufficient, his dress and the profusion of jewellery—principally diamonds—that decked his person would have told the tale. In appearance he was short, stout, very red about the face, and made up what he lacked in breeding by an effusive familiarity that sometimes bordered on the offensive.
“I am afraid,” said Carne, when his host had finished speaking, “that I ought to be ashamed of myself for intruding on you at such an early hour. I wanted, however, to thank you personally for the kind invitation you have sent me to be present at your daughter’s wedding.”
“I trust you will be able to come,” replied Mr. Greenthorpe a little anxiously, for he was eager that the world should know that he and the now famous Simon Carne were on familiar terms.
“That is exactly what has brought me to see you,” said Carne. “I regret to say I hardly know yet whether I shall be able to give myself that pleasure or not. An important complication has arisen in connection with some property in which I am interested, and it is just possible that I shall be called to the Continent within the next few days. My object in calling upon you this morning was to ask you to permit me to withhold my answer until I am at liberty to speak more definitely as to my arrangements.”
“By all means, by all means,” answered his host, placing himself with legs wide apart upon the hearthrug, and rattling the money in his trouser pockets. “Take just as long as you like so long as you don’t say you can’t come. Me and the missus—hem! I mean Mrs. Greenthorpe and I—are looking forward to the pleasure of your society, and I can tell you we shan’t think our company complete if we don’t have you with us.”
“I am extremely flattered,” said Carne sweetly, “and you may be sure it will not be my fault if I am not among your guests.”
“Hear, hear, to that, sir,” replied the old gentleman. “We shall be a merry party, and, I trust, a distinguished one. We did hope to have had Royalty present among us, but, unfortunately, there were special reasons, that I am hardly privileged to mention, which prevented it. However, the Duke of Rugby and his duchess, the father and mother of my future son-in-law, you know, are coming; the Earl of Boxmoor and his countess have accepted; Lord Southam and his lady, half a dozen baronets or so, and as many Members of Parliament and their wives as you can count on one hand. There’ll be a ball the night before, given by the Mayor at the Assembly Rooms, a dinner to the tenants at the conclusion of the ceremony, and a ball in my own house after the young couple have gone away. You may take it from me, my dear sir, that nothing on a similar scale has ever been seen at Market Stopford before.”
“I can quite believe it,” said Carne. “It will mark an epoch in the history of the county.”
“It will do more than that, sir. The festivities alone will cost me a cool five thousand pounds. At first I was all for having it in town, but I was persuaded out of it. After all, a country house is better suited to such jinks. And we mean to do it well.”
He took Carne familiarly by the button of his coat, and, sinking his voice to an impressive whisper, asked him to hazard a guess how much he thought the whole affair, presents and all, would cost.
Carne shook his head. “I have not the very remotest notion,” he said. “But if you wish me to guess, I will put it at fifty thousand pounds.”
“Not enough by half, sir—not enough by half. Why, I’ll let you into a little secret that even my wife knows nothing about.”
As he spoke, he crossed the room to a large safe in the wall. This he unlocked, and having done so took from it an oblong box, wrapped in tissue paper. This he placed on the table in the centre of the room, and then, having looked out into the hall to make sure that no one was about, shut and locked the door. Then, turning to Carne, he said:
“I don’t know what you may think, sir, but there are some people I know as try to insinuate that if you have money you can’t have taste. Now, I’ve got the money”—here he threw back his shoulders, and tapped himself proudly on the chest—“and I’m going to convince you, sir, that I’ve got as pretty an idea of taste as any man could wish to have. This box will prove it.”
So saying, he unwrapped the tissue paper, and displayed to Carne’s astonished gaze a large gilded casket, richly chased, standing upon four massive feet.
“There, sir, you see,” he said, “an artistic bit of workmanship, and I’ll ask you to guess what it’s for.”
Carne, however, shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m but a poor hand at guessing, but, if I must venture an opinion, I should say a jewel case.”
Thereupon Mr. Greenthorpe lifted the lid.
“And you would be wrong, sir. I will tell you what it is for. That box has been constructed to contain exactly fifty thousand sovereigns, and on her wedding day it will be filled, and presented to the bride, as a token of her father’s affection. Now, if that isn’t in good taste, I shall have to ask you to tell me what is.”
“I am astonished at your munificence,” said Carne. “To be perfectly candid with you, I don’t know that I have ever heard of such a present before.”
“I thought you’d say so. I said to myself when I ordered that box, ‘Mr. Carne is the best judge of what is artistic in England, and I’ll take his opinion about it.’”
“I suppose your daughter has received some valuable presents?”
“Valuable, sir? Why, that’s no name for it. I should put down what has come in up to the present at not a penny under twenty thousand pounds. Why, you may not believe it, sir, but Mrs. Greenthorpe has presented the young couple with a complete toilet-set of solid g
old. I doubt if such another has been seen in this country before.”
“I should say it would be worth a burglar’s while to pay a visit to your house on the wedding day,” said Carne with a smile.
“He wouldn’t get much for his pains,” said the old gentleman warmly. “I have already provided for that contingency. The billiard-room will be used as a treasure-chamber for the time being, as there is a big safe like that over yonder in the wall. This week bars are being placed on all the windows, and on the night preceding, and also on the wedding day, one of my gardeners will keep watch in the room itself, while one of the village policemen will mount guard at the door in the passage. Between them they ought to be sufficient to keep out any burglars who may wish to try their hands upon the presents. What do you think?”
At that moment the handle of the door turned, and an instant later the bride-elect entered the room. On seeing Simon Carne she paused upon the threshold with a gesture of embarrassment, and made as if she would retreat. Carne, however, was too quick for her. He advanced and held out his hand.
“How do you do, Miss Greenthorpe?” he said, looking her steadily in the face. “Your father has just been telling me of the many beautiful presents you have received. I am sure I congratulate you most heartily. With your permission I will add my mite to the list. Such as it is, I would beg your acceptance of it.”
So saying, he took from his pocket the case containing the bracelet he had that morning purchased. Unfastening it, he withdrew the circlet and clasped it upon her wrist. So great was her surprise and delight that for some moments she was at a loss how to express her thanks. When she recovered her presence of mind and her speech, she attempted to do so, but Carne stopped her.
“You must not thank me too much,” he said, “or I shall begin to think I have done a meritorious action. I trust Lord Kilbenham is well?”
“He was very well when I last saw him,” answered the girl after a momentary pause, which Carne noticed, “but he is so busy just now that we see very little of each other. Good-bye.”
All the way home Simon Carne sat wrapped in a brown study. On reaching his residence he went straight to his study, and to his writing-desk, where he engaged himself for some minutes jotting down certain memoranda on a sheet of note-paper. When he had finished he rang the bell and ordered that Belton, his valet, should be sent to him.
“Belton,” he said, when the person he wanted had arrived in answer to the summons, “on Thursday next I shall go down to Market Stopford to attend the wedding of the Marquis of Kilbenham with Miss Greenthorpe. You will, of course, accompany me. In the meantime” (here he handed him the sheet of paper upon which he had been writing) “I want you to attend to these few details. Some of the articles, I’m afraid, you will find rather difficult to obtain, but at any cost I must have them to take down to the country with me.”
Belton took the paper and left the room with it, and for the time being Carne dismissed the matter from his mind.
The sun was in the act of setting on the day immediately preceding the wedding when Simon Carne and his faithful valet reached the wayside station of Market Stopford. As the train came to a standstill, a footman wearing the Greenthorpe livery opened the door of the reserved carriage and informed his master’s guest that a brougham was waiting outside the station to convey him to his destination. Belton was to follow with the luggage in the servants’ omnibus.
On arrival at Greenthorpe Park, Simon Carne was received by his host and hostess in the hall, the rearmost portion of which was furnished as a smoking-room. Judging from the number of guests passing, re-passing, and lolling about in the easy chairs, most of the company invited had already arrived. When he had greeted those with whom he was familiar, and had taken a cup of tea from the hands of the bride-elect, who was dispensing it at a small table near the great oak fireplace, he set himself to be agreeable to those about him for the space of a quarter of an hour, after which he was escorted to his bedroom, a pretty room situated in the main portion of the building at the head of the grand staircase. He found Belton awaiting him there. His luggage had been unpacked, and a glance at his watch told him that in a few minutes’ time it would be necessary for him to prepare for dinner.
“Well, Belton,” he said, as he threw himself into a chair beside the window that looked out over the rose garden, “here we are, and the next question is, how are we going to succeed?”
“I have never known you fail yet, sir,” replied the deferential valet, “and I don’t suppose you’ll do so on this occasion.”
“You flatter me, Belton, but I will not be so falsely modest as to say that your praise is altogether undeserved. This, however, is a case of more than usual delicacy and danger, and it will be necessary for us to play our cards with considerable care. When I have examined this house I shall elaborate my plans more fully. We have none too much time, for the attempt must be made to-morrow night. You have brought down with you the things I mentioned on that list, I suppose?”
“They are in these chests, sir,” said Belton. “They make a precious heavy load, and once or twice I was fearful lest they might arouse suspicion.”
“You need have no fear, my good Belton,” said Carne. “I have a very plausible excuse to account for their presence here. Every one by this time knows that I am a great student, and also that I never travel without at least two cases of books. It is looked upon as a harmless fad. Here is my key. Open the box standing nearest to you.”
Belton did as he was commanded, when it was seen that it was filled to its utmost holding capacity with books.
“No one would think,” said Carne, with a smile at the astonishment depicted on the other’s face, “that there are only two layers of volumes there, would they? If you lift out the tray upon which they rest, you will discover that the balance of the box is now occupied by the things you placed in it. Unknown to you, I had the trays fitted after you had packed the others. There is nothing like being prepared for all emergencies. Now, pay attention to what I am about to say to you. I have learned that the wedding presents, including the fifty thousand sovereigns presented by Mr. Greenthorpe to his daughter in that absurd casket, of which I spoke to you, will be on view to-morrow afternoon in the billiard-room; to-night, and to-morrow before the ball commences, they will be placed in the safe. One of Mr. Greenthorpe’s most trusted servants will keep watch over them in the room, while a constable will be on duty in the lobby outside. Bars have been placed on all the windows, and, as I understand, the village police will patrol the building at intervals during the night. The problem of how we are to get hold of them would seem rather a hard nut to crack, would it not?”
“I must confess I don’t see how you are going to do it at all, sir,” said Belton.
“Well, we’ll see. I have a plan in my head now, but before I can adopt it I must make a few inquiries. I believe there is a staircase leading from the end of this corridor down to the lobby outside the billiard and smoking-rooms. If this is so, we shall have to make use of it. It must be your business to discover at what time the custodians of the treasure have their last meal. When you have found that out let me know. Now you had better get me ready for dinner as soon as possible.”
When Carne retired to rest that evening, his inimitable valet was in a position to report that the sentries were already installed, and that their supper had been taken to them, by Mr. Greenthorpe’s orders, at ten o’clock precisely, by one of the under-footmen, who had been instructed to look after them.
“Very good,” said Carne; “I think I see my way now. I’ll sleep on my scheme and let you know what decision I have come to in the morning. If we pull this little business off successfully, there will be ten thousand pounds for you to pay into your credit, my friend.”
Belton bowed and thanked his master without a sign of emotion upon his face. After which Simon Carne went to bed.
When he was called next morning, he
discovered a perfect summer day. Brilliant sunshine streamed in at the windows, and the songs of birds came from the trees outside.
“An excellent augury,” he said to himself as he jumped out of bed and donned the heavy dressing-gown his valet held open for him. “Miss Greenthorpe, my compliments to you. My lord marquis is not the only man upon whom you are conferring happiness to-day.”
His good humour did not leave him, for when he descended to the breakfast-room an hour later his face was radiant with smiles, and every one admitted that it would be impossible to meet a more charming companion.
During the morning he was occupied in the library, writing letters.
At one he lunched with his fellow-guests, none of the family being present, and at half-past went off to dress for the wedding ceremony. This important business completed, a move was made for the church; and in something less than a quarter of an hour the nuptial knot was tied, and Miss Sophie Greenthorpe, only daughter of Matthew Greenthorpe, erstwhile grocer and provision merchant, of Little Bexter Street, Tottenham Court Road, left the building, on her husband’s arm, Marchioness of Kilbenham and future Duchess of Rugby.
Simon Carne and his fellow-guests followed in her wake down the aisle, and, having entered their carriages, returned to the Park.
The ball that evening was an acknowledged success, but, though he was an excellent dancer, and had his choice of the prettiest women in the room, Carne was evidently ill at ease. The number of times he stealthily examined his watch said this as plainly as any words. As a matter of fact, the last guest had scarcely arrived before he left the ball-room, and passed down the lobby towards the back staircase, stopping en route to glance at the billiard-room door.
As he expected, it was closed, and a stalwart provincial policeman stood on guard before it.
He made a jocular reference about the treasure the constable was guarding, and, with a laugh at himself for forgetting the way to his bedroom, retraced his steps to the stairs, up which he passed to his own apartment. Belton was awaiting him there.
