Hidden Booty (Emmie Reese Mysteries, Story #2)

by Robert Bruce Stewart

  That afternoon, I showed Mme. Veblynde the handkerchief. She examined it carefully and told me it would have been very expensive, as was the perfume. I then told her who it belonged to, and about M. Houyvet’s suspicious behavior. She thought it unlikely there was any association between the two. And while I agreed that there seemed little about M. Houyvet that would tempt a woman to stray, the facts spoke for themselves. I told her that I had already searched the lady’s cabin and was determined to search the first officer’s as well. I believe I shocked her with this revelation, but ultimately she conceded it was necessary. I asked her if she would accompany me. This she declined to do. She did, however, agree to determine at what time he would be standing watch and, after a great deal of cajoling, to lend me a ring of keys the captain kept in his desk.

  My best opportunity would be sometime after the 2 a.m. watch change. At three, I left our cabin without waking Harry and made my way to M. Houyvet’s. There was no one about at that hour and I only needed to try three keys before I found the one that fit. I covered the porthole and turned on a light. M. Houyvet was a very neat man, though I suppose that may be characteristic of all ship’s officers. The cabin held some family keepsakes, and a number of books. But I saw nothing at all suspicious—until I came across a small casket in the depths of his chest. It held a most intriguing plunder. There were two unmatched stockings, three garters, five pieces of lingerie, easily a dozen handkerchiefs, and a half-dozen earrings, no two alike. I was sitting on the bed with this suggestive collection in my lap, when suddenly the door swung open. It was M. Houyvet, and I can honestly say I’d never been so frightened in my life. I gave a small yelp.

  But instead of sounding the alarm, M. Houyvet acted sheepish. I asked him if these were mementos of various conquests. He blushed. No, he said, nothing like that. He confessed he found it challenging even to talk to a woman. But he became easily infatuated with the beautiful women he met on board and had at some point developed the unfortunate habit of removing these souvenirs from their cabins as they slept. He sat down beside me on the bed. Then he picked up each piece in succession and told me about its owner. But not as a gushing romantic. More as the poet Mallarmé would have expressed it. It was quite intoxicating. I told him his talents were wasted, and he blushed again.

  He confessed he knew nothing about Mme. Dupagnier, other than that she was so exquisitely beautiful. He’d never even spoken to her. I showed him the handkerchief, but he said he had not taken it. He retrieved a second chest from under the bed and pulled out a beautiful piece of silk lingerie. There was no mistaking that it was Mme. Dupagnier’s. He insisted he had no idea how the handkerchief had gotten into our cabin. And I felt he was telling me the truth, having seen nothing of my own in his collection. It seems odd in the retelling, but I must admit that my vanity was wounded when he confirmed that was the case. And I think this sensitive man realized my feelings. He glanced up at the small comb I’d placed in my hair before leaving our cabin. As we sat there, side by side, M. Houyvet reached up and removed it with a delicacy that can only be described as erotic. I was blushing now, and knew I needed to leave quickly. I told him his secret was safe with me and then left him—and my comb.

  The next morning, there was a great deal of commotion below decks. There was some trouble among the third-class passengers and it was several hours before the crew finally restored order. Somehow, those in steerage had heard there was gold hidden aboard the ship. Not surprisingly, they initiated a vigorous search. I wasn’t sure if Harry was behind it, but whatever the cause, it was very good news for the syndicate.

  Later, I returned the keys to Mme. Veblynde. Given that she had taken some risk in the matter, I couldn’t very well keep from her what I’d learned about M. Houyvet. She seemed pleased, as if it came as a relief to her that he had some hidden depths. She told me M. Houyvet always took the watch at dinner time and so had had little opportunity of socializing with the passengers. But in the future she would try to remedy that. As I anticipated, she asked if I had found anything of hers among the treasures. She described an earring she was sure had gone missing on board and I told her I’d most definitely seen it.

  Harry spent most of that afternoon hanging about the cabin reading. I asked him if he was ill, and he insisted he was fine. It wasn’t like Harry to be stoic about such things, but when he told me he expected to spend the next day resting I felt some concern. Then the doctor came by, without us even calling for him. After he examined Harry, I escorted him out. He told me that the ship’s officers were convinced Harry wasn’t entirely rational, as his searches seemed to achieve nothing other than to disrupt the ship’s routine. I suggested it was probably nervous exhaustion.

  With Harry’s searches suspended, and the captain making every effort to regain some of the lost time, I thought a reversal of strategy was in order. I informed Mr. Smallby that he should bid for the longest mileage. When the time was posted the next noon, we had won handily. I now made discreet use of M. Houyvet’s friendship and asked about the prospects for our last day at sea. He said extra stokers had been put on and the weather ahead seemed to be excellent. I suggested to Mr. Smallby that we use our entire capital to acquire the longest mileage again that evening. He made some cautious reply, but given that I knew him to be carrying on some subterfuge, he was forced to carry out my instructions. Later that evening, Mme. Veblynde made a rather startling revelation. I was playing bridge in the saloon when she rushed up and all but dragged me out on deck.

  “She’s a Courtois!” she exclaimed.

  It was some time before I was able to calm her. Then she made her meaning clear: Julie Dupagnier had been born Julie Courtois. I remembered then that Mme. Yvard was none other than Charlotte Courtois. Apparently, she was a younger sister of Julie’s father. We both agreed this was just too much of a coincidence. I resolved to keep an even closer watch on Mme. Dupagnier.

  The next morning, our last at sea, I came upon a most unexpected sight. Harry had disappeared and I was on my way to breakfast alone. Coming up a stairway, I saw Julie Dupagnier, née Courtois, together with Mlle. Moreau, the purser’s fiancée. They were chatting amiably. Then they separated on entering the saloon. How odd that they should become friends, I thought. I began to look for M. Guenard, but was interrupted by yet another commotion below decks. It came as no surprise that Harry was responsible for it. But what was surprising was that he’d actually found the gold. Or most of it, anyway. Seventeen bars of the twenty-four still missing. I was dumbfounded. I’d never realized he’d actually been looking for it.

  Later, Harry and I were invited to luncheon in the captain’s stateroom. In addition to the captain and his wife, Mr. Finn was also with us. Harry, of course, was roundly congratulated. Given that his methods had seemed so haphazard, and his exertions so lackadaisical, everyone was very curious to hear how he had managed it. No one more so than myself. He told us how he had deduced that the thieves must have known a shipment of gold would be arriving on board in New York. So, they arranged for a quantity of lead to be shipped as cargo as well. During the voyage, they cut into three of the kegs, removed the gold, and replaced it with lead. They then planned to smuggle the gold out in the crates the lead had been shipped in, so the theft wouldn’t have been exposed until the kegs arrived at the bank in Paris. But once the three gold bars fell out of Mme. Yvard’s trunk, they knew the cargo would be searched. So they removed the gold from the crates and hid it elsewhere on the ship.

  “But how did you find where they’d hidden it?” I asked.

  “I didn’t. I couldn’t even imagine how to go about that. It seemed far easier to have them bring the gold to me.”

  “And how did you manage to orchestrate that?”

  “First, I made it known among the crew that there would be no need to search the cargo because it would be guarded throughout the trip. Then I arranged to have the same man assigned to that task who had been guarding the gold during the last voyage.”

  “I see. Y
ou thought he must have been in on the theft.”

  “Either that, or wholly incompetent. I soon found out it was the latter. Give Seaman Francher a bottle of claret and he’d sleep through the Apocalypse.”

  “And you took him the claret?” I asked.

  “Yes, quite a lot of it. I wanted to make it as easy as possible for the thieves to sneak the gold in among the cargo. Then this morning, Seaman Francher and a couple of his fellows helped me search the cargo. Eventually, we found the gold in a large piece of machinery.”

  I was happy for Harry, of course. But while he was enjoying himself in the role of Holmes, I wasn’t content to play his Watson. I was now all the more anxious to solve my part of the affair, for the identity of the thieves was still unknown. The captain suggested that we forget about the wager. And Mr. Finn agreed. They seemed to think they were being chivalrous, but as is often the case with men, the chivalry was just a cloak for the ever-present condescension. Whatever his faults, Harry is never chivalrous. I assured the two gentlemen that there was no need to call off the wager.

  “You expect to locate the gold still missing?” the captain asked.

  “You forget, Captain. Our wager is that I identify the thieves behind it.”

  Only Mme. Veblynde seemed to have any faith in my fulfilling my part of the bargain. Just after lunch we reached Sandy Hook, well ahead of schedule. So I was certain our syndicate had prevailed again. We then spent a great deal of time at the quarantine station. Apparently, there had been some illness among the crew and three of them were taken to the hospital there. However, since the technical end of the voyage was the passing of Sandy Hook, I was confident the delay had no effect on our chances of winning the pool.

  IV

  It wasn’t until early that evening that we finally docked in New York. I had made sure that Harry and I were positioned to observe the other passengers as they formed a queue. And I was much relieved when Mme. Dupagnier appeared, listing slightly to one side, then the other. I pointed her out to Harry, but he didn’t appreciate the significance—until I reminded him of the leather brace we’d seen in her cabin. Then Mlle. Moreau came into view. She had only a slight slouch, but it was enough to confirm my suspicions. I went over to M. Houyvet, who was supervising the disembarking. I pointed out the two women, but he, too, missed the point.

  “The still-missing gold. I believe they may be carrying it. At least a portion of it.”

  He looked more carefully, and then agreed that the two women appeared decidedly less graceful. He called down to a man on the pier and gave him a message for the customs officials. Then I led Harry back to the captain’s stateroom. I had already made Mme. Veblynde aware of my plan and she was there waiting. She told us the captain would be along shortly. Then Mr. Finn, whom I had also summoned, joined us. He asked what it was about, but I suggested we wait. A little while later, the captain arrived. He was impatient, so I revealed that I’d soon be able to identify the thieves. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably just minutes, M. Houyvet appeared. He told me I was correct. The two women had each hidden two bars of gold under their clothing, using harnesses fashioned from leather, like the one we had seen in Julie Dupagnier’s cabin. Knowing M. Houyvet’s secret, I was amused to see him blush with embarrassment over the details.

  “Where is M. Guenard?” I asked him.

  He didn’t know. Everyone seemed puzzled by my inquiry. Mr. Finn was the first to recover his wits.

  “The purser?” he asked.

  “Yes, it must be him.”

  M. Houyvet left us in order to locate M. Guenard. He was soon found in his own cabin, where the ladies had left him bound and gagged. M. Houyvet brought him to the stateroom and he was informed that the two women had been arrested. He then told us the whole story. The plan was just as Harry had surmised, to replace the gold with the lead, and the lead with the gold. But the purser denied being behind it. He had been used, he said, by Mme. Yvard. She had seduced him, and the plan was hers entirely. It seems she knew of the gold shipment well in advance. And it was she who had arranged for the delivery of the lead and the fabrication of the faux seal. The work of carrying out the exchanges proved more than M. Guenard could manage alone, so he enlisted a steward he had suspected of stealing from passengers’ cabins. The man took no convincing. While most of the gold was to be sent to a warehouse, in the guise of lead, Mme. Yvard had taken three bars with her. As insurance, M. Guenard conjectured. She placed them in the false bottom of her trunk. But apparently when the porter upended the trunk to bring it up on deck, the weight of the gold shifted and it fell through a weak point. Hearing of the three bars’ discovery, the purser had his confederate remove the gold from the crates in the hold and hide it behind the wall panels of a little-used corridor.

  While L’Aquitaine was docked at Le Havre, M. Guenard contacted Mme. Yvard. She spoke to him coldly, telling him they must stay apart. He now realized he had been nothing more than a tool to her. If he wished some reward for all his risk, he would need to see to it himself. So he approached Mlle. Moreau. Years ago, they had had an understanding. He told her he had always regretted that they hadn’t married. Then he convinced her to travel on L’Aquitaine to New York. During the trip, he told her of his predicament. It was his intention to have her hide two bars under her clothing, using the leather harness he’d fashioned. Then, Julie Dupagnier appeared. She knew all about the scheme, from her aunt, and was there to claim a share on her behalf. In order to assuage her, the purser made a second harness and likewise gave her two bars. But he didn’t confide in either woman about the other. This was a grave error. Mlle. Moreau saw him visit Mme. Dupagnier’s cabin and, out of suspicion, confronted her. But Mme. Dupagnier convinced her she was being used by the purser, who she revealed was the lover of Mme. Yvard. When Harry uncovered the bulk of the gold, M. Guenard lost his nerve and wanted to leave the ship. But the two women were afraid that would give them away before they themselves could disembark with their own gold. So they made him a prisoner in his cabin.

  “What about the last three bars of gold?” Mr. Finn asked.

  The purser swore he had no idea where it was. His confederate was brought in. With the purser having given him up, he likewise confessed. But he also pled ignorance about the three missing bars. They were taken away and both Mr. Finn and the captain admitted I had won the wager. Mr. Finn had just counted out two hundred dollars—the equivalent to one thousand francs—when there was a knock at the door. It was my associate, Mr. Smallby, accompanied by two New York policemen.

  Smallby, it seems, was a private investigator hired by National City Bank. They’d come to arrest Mr. Finn. Apparently, he and his father-in-law had conspired to steal from their employer—not gold, but bonds. They’d been falsifying ledgers for the last few years, moving securities to their own accounts, and eventually accumulating a sizable fortune in South America. The two hundred dollars on the table was seized by the policemen and Mr. Finn taken away in handcuffs.

  Mr. Smallby then asked me to join him on deck. He confessed he hadn’t been able to secure our desired position in the final pool because he’d been distracted by his investigation of Mr. Finn. So he instead used our capital to make a side bet on what time we would dock in New York. The delay brought on by the bother at the quarantine station caused him to lose the bet and all our money. I was crestfallen. I’d gone to great effort to ensure my fortune, and this man had bungled it. Back inside, the captain paid me the hundred francs that he owed me. While I was glad to have succeeded, it seemed that I had gone through quite a lot for twenty dollars.

  Once through customs, Harry and I went off to our apartment in Brooklyn. Since we hadn’t expected to be back until sometime the next month, we’d given our maid, Mary, a month’s vacation. The larder was empty, and so we went out to a nice restaurant for dinner. When we returned to the Margaret, our building on the Plaza, a French seaman approached us. Harry introduced him as Thibaut Francher, the undependable watchman. Then two of T
hibaut’s friends emerged from the shadows. We invited them inside, where they told the most perplexing story of feigning illness so they’d be removed from the boat at quarantine. Then they escaped from the hospital in a dinghy. When I pointed out it seemed like a rather unnecessary detour when they would be arriving in New York shortly anyway, they said something about never getting enough leave. After they had consumed every drop of spirits in the apartment, Harry gave them a portion of our meager cash and suggested they take a hotel room. Since we had two spare rooms, I found this decidedly inhospitable, and not at all like him.

  When I asked Harry about his unfriendly attitude, he said that he simply didn’t feel comfortable having the truant seamen staying in our home. About ten the next morning, he informed me he needed to attend to some business. This heightened my suspicion. I let Harry go off alone. But five minutes later I set out myself, heading to the hotel which Harry had recommended to our guests. I hid outside where I could see the entrance but would myself remain unobserved. Ten minutes went by before the four of them emerged. Harry led them to a car going across the bridge to Park Row. I just managed to board at the far end. Once on the Manhattan side, they disembarked and walked over to William Street, then down to a building I was unfamiliar with. They took an elevator up to the sixth floor. The doorman informed me that the sixth floor housed a firm of lawyers. Given that they must have gone to see someone Harry was acquainted with, the general nature of this lawyer’s practice was obvious. And I could think of no likely explanation for the three Frenchmen wanting to consult such a lawyer, save one: they had the remaining three bars of gold. Most people don’t realize it, but insurance companies aren’t at all adverse to dealing with thieves—provided it saves them a sizable amount of money. When Harry came home that afternoon, I told him what I had observed and insisted he reveal all.