CHAPTER XXXIII
DISCLOSES A STRANGE TRUTH
"I think, Lola, I had better explain to them the circumstances in whichwe met," young Craig exclaimed with frankness. His hand was still uponher shoulder, his eyes gazing straight into hers with that intenselove-light which, in this world of falsity and fraud, is one of thethings which can never be feigned.
"Yes, do," she urged, clinging closely to him, her frail frametrembling, for she was still upset and unnerved.
"Well, last January, I was staying with my mother at the _Hotel Adlon_,in Berlin, for though I have a place near Monmouth called Huttoft Hall,left to me by my father, Sir Alexander Craig, I am constantly on theContinent. As a bachelor I prefer life abroad, and indeed, at that time,I had not been in England since I came of age, four years before. At thehotel, I found Lola staying with her uncle--that man!" and he pointed toJeanjean--held there prisoner. "He called himself Dr. Paul Arendt, andgave himself out to be a Belgian from Liege. He was very affable, and webecame on friendly terms, while my mother took a great fancy to Lola.After about ten days or so an English friend of Arendt's, a young mannamed Richard Perceval, arrived, and we three men went about Berlin, andsaw the sights and the night-life, a good deal together. This went onfor nearly three weeks, Lola and I becoming very fast friends. At last,however, her uncle being suddenly recalled to Paris, we were compelledto part, though we constantly exchanged letters. From Berlin, my mothermoved to Cannes, and I followed her. We spent February and March on theRiviera, and then went north to the Italian Lakes, the most lovely spotin Europe in the springtide." He paused and, turning to the girl, said,"Now, Lola, will you explain what happened?"
The man under arrest again fought violently for freedom. His face wasflushed with exertion, his long teeth clenched, his black eyes startingwildly from his head. Now that the villainous old man he had obeyed asmaster was dead, he saw that he must, at all hazards, save himself.
From his grey lips there issued a torrent of abuse, and the most fearfulmaledictions, in the French tongue.
Lola, requested by her lover to speak, held her breath for a moment, andthen, with an effort, calming the flood of emotion that arose withinher, said in her pretty English--
"After we met in Berlin, I, at my uncle's orders, ingratiated myselfwith Lady Craig, for the purpose of ascertaining whether she had withher jewellery of any value. Meanwhile, finding that Edouard had becomevery friendly with me, he at once instituted inquiries and found thatLady Craig was widow of Sir Alexander Craig, Knight, who had diedleaving his only son possessor of a great fortune and a large estatenear Monmouth. He also, through inquiries made by Vernon, found thatEdouard had not been in England since he came of age. Vernon and myuncle met secretly one day at Frankfort, whereupon the crafty old manelaborated an ingenious plan which, within a few days, was put intoexecution. Among Vernon's wily confederates was a very smart,gentlemanly young man named Richard Perceval, who had been an actor, andwho was the same height and much the same build as Edouard. This mancame to our hotel in Berlin, but with what object I was, then, entirelyignorant. I now know that the reason he joined us was in order tocarefully watch Mr. Craig's manners, his gait, his style of dress, andall his idiosyncrasies. While Edouard was unaware of it, he took manysnapshots of him in secret, and one day for a joke they both went to aphotographer's and had their portraits taken, the object of my uncle andPerceval being to obtain a thoroughly good likeness of M'sieur Craig.After three weeks, however, their preparations being completed, thoughI, of course, had no suspicion as to what was intended, we left Berlinand returned to Paris."
"To Brussels," interrupted the notorious criminal. "Be correct, atleast." And his face broadened in an evil grin.
"To Brussels first, and then next day to Paris," Lola went on. "For someweeks nothing was done, it seems. I had constant letters from Edouard,who was at Beau Site, at Cannes, and I frequently wrote to him there.Then I accompanied my uncle to Algiers, where we remained some time, ourmovements being always sudden and always uncertain. My uncle, atAlgiers, was engaged with his wireless telegraphy, sending and receivingmessages from nowhere. Meanwhile, old Vernon's wits were at work and helaid his plans for a great _coup_. He took Richard Perceval to Cromer,then dull, sleepy, and out-of-season, the young man arriving there ashis nephew, Edward Craig. He possessed an exact counterpart of M'sieurCraig's wardrobe, his hair was cut in the style you see Edouard wearingit, and by means of certain small but expert touches to his countenance,so artistic as not to be discernible, he had become transformed into theexact counterpart of the owner of Huttoft. Early in June we returnedfrom Algiers to Paris, and my uncle, leaving me, went to London. Then,when he returned to the Boulevard Pereire three days later, I noticed agreat change in him. He seemed greatly incensed with the Master."
"Had they quarrelled?" I inquired eagerly.
"Yes, over the division of the profits arising from the theft, in themonth of March, of four hundred thousand francs' worth of diamonds, andpearls from a Paris jeweller named Benoy, while he was in a motor-car inthe Forest of Fontainebleau. Vernon, he told me, had sold the stones andhad retained three-fourths of the plunder. My uncle was furious andvowed most terrible vengeance. Next day, he sent me from Paris directto Norfolk with a letter to Vernon. On arrival in Cromer I was utterlyastounded to meet Perceval in the street dressed as Edouard Craig andpresenting an exact likeness to him! Perceval, however, did not see me,and I went to Beacon House, delivered the letter to the old man,obtained a reply, returned to London, and next day to Paris. From myuncle, who became more incensed than ever against Vernon on receipt ofthe reply to his letter, I managed to elicit what was intended. This wasthat Vernon, knowing that Edouard lived always on the Continent, and hadnot been home for four years, had devised a devilish plan by whichPerceval, representing himself to be the owner of Huttoft, was to obtainfrom his late father's lawyers, a reputable firm whose address is inLincoln's Inn Fields, the deeds relating to the great Huttoft estate, aswell as a quantity of family jewels, and raise a large mortgage upon theproperty from a well-known firm of money-lenders. The preliminarynegotiations with the latter had already been opened, and it was only aquestion of days when the bogus Edouard Craig, already practised in theart of forging the signature of the real M'sieur Craig, would presenthimself to his late father's solicitors. The deep cunning of the wholeplot, and the fine and elaborate detail in which it had all been workedout, held me aghast. If carried out, it was expected that fully seventythousand pounds would be neatly netted and the bogus Craig woulddisappear into thin air!"
"What did you do then?" I asked, amazed at her revelation.
"At once I wrote to M'sieur Craig, who was at Villa d'Este, on the Lakeof Como, asking him to meet me in secret in Paris, at the earliestpossible moment. He met me one afternoon in the tea-rooms in the cornerof the Place Vendome, and there I told him what I had discovered.And--and--well, I was forced to confess to him, for the first time, thatI was a thief." She added in a changed voice, "the cat's paw of myuncle. I know I----"
"That's enough, Lola!" exclaimed the young man. "We need not refer tothat. With Mr. Vidal, I am fully aware that your connection with thoseterrible crimes has been a purely innocent one. You have been forcedinto assisting them--held to them and to silence on pain of death."
"Yes," I added, "that's true. Lola is innocent. I vouch for that."
"Yes. Put upon my guard by Lola," Craig exclaimed, "I crossed at once toLondon, and without revealing who it was who intended to personate me, Itold old Jerningham, the solicitor, to be careful. I remained in Londona week, and then, unable to further repress my curiosity, I went toCromer. I----"
"Ah, perhaps I had better continue my narrative, so that we shall berightly understood," Lola interrupted, with cheeks flushed in herexcitement. "A couple of days after Edouard had gone to London, myuncle, stung to fury by a letter he had received from old Vernon,suddenly announced that we were both going to Cromer. Therefore, we leftParis, and duly landed at Charing Cross, just in time
to catch the lasttrain up to Cromer, where we arrived between ten and eleven o'clock atnight. In order to spring a surprise upon Vernon, we evaded the hoteland went to some rooms in Overstrand Road for which he had alreadytelegraphed, having seen an advertisement in a railway guide."
"To the house where he afterwards lodged?" I asked.
"Yes. He had taken the same name he had used in Berlin, Doctor Arendt,"she replied. "Well, I had gone to my room, but was standing at the openwindow, without switching on the light, when I saw him leave the house.Wondering what might be in progress, I put on my knitted golf coat andcap, and went after him. He took a long night-ramble past the flashinglighthouse on the cliff, and away across the golf-links, towardsOverstrand, apparently reflecting deeply, his anger rising more and moreagainst Vernon, whom he had accused of robbing him. For a long time Iwatched as he sat upon a log on top of the cliffs about a mile and ahalf from the town, gazing out upon the sea, and smoking a cigar, Ihaving hid myself behind a bush. I was rather sorry I had come out, yetin the circumstances, and in the interests of Edouard, I felt it my dutyto watch in patience. At last my uncle rose and strolled back over thegolf-course, along the cliff-path, towards the town. As he came alongover the low hill from the lighthouse, strolling on the grass, andmaking no sound, he suddenly discerned upon a seat the figure of a manin wide-brimmed hat and cape seated with his back to him and looking outto sea. The night was warm and pleasant, a calm and perfect night on theNorth Sea----"
"Were you near him?" Sommerville interrupted.
"I was walking along under the shadow of the hedge, while he walked overthe open, undulating ground," was the girl's reply. "On recognizing theMaster seated there, he was apparently seized by a sudden impulse ofrevenge--perhaps cupidity as well--for I saw him creep up behind theseat, and taking something from his pocket, thrust it quick as a flashinto the old man's face. The man attacked clawed the air frantically,rose to his feet, staggered a few steps, and reeling, fell to the groundwithout uttering a sound--dead. I saw, in my uncle's hand astrange-looking and most terrible instrument, which he sometimes carriedwhen engaged on one of his desperate exploits, a specially-constructedpistol the barrel of which was of soft india-rubber and finishing in abell-mouth about three inches across. This he had suddenly pressed overthe old man's nose and mouth--as he had done, alas! I knew, in othercases where the victim had been found dead, and doctors had been unableto establish the mysterious cause--then, pulling the trigger, he haddischarged a glass capsule containing a mixture of compressed amylnitrate and hydrocyanic gas, which, when released, a single inhalationcaused instant death. The discoverer of the compound killed himselfaccidentally by it. Aghast, I stood watching him. He bent and examinedthe dead man's face. Then he searched his pockets, took out something,and then, moving quickly, dashed away towards the town, evidentlyalarmed at his own action."
And the girl paused, the accused man before her shouting strenuousdenials.
"The instant he had gone," she continued, "I crept over the grass, pastthe seat whereon the dead man had rested, and, bending to see if he wasstill breathing, I found to my horror and dismay that it was not theMaster at all, but his supposed nephew, Richard Perceval! Back I hurriedto the house where we had rooms, and entering noiselessly--for I hadbeen taught to move without noise at night"--and she smiled grimly atme. "I found my uncle had, fortunately, not yet come in. Therefore Iretired to bed. Next morning we left hurriedly for London, Jeanjean notdaring to face Vernon after what had occurred, and moreover, ignorant ofthe fact that Vernon had left Cromer during the night, alarmed by thereal Edouard Craig calling upon him, and hinting that he knew the truthconcerning certain recent jewel robberies. Jeanjean, however, returnedto Cromer a few days later, and I followed and helped to secure thejewels Vernon had left behind."
"Yes," Craig exclaimed. "True. I saw nothing of Perceval on that eveningwhen I called upon old Vernon. My visit, however, completely upset him.Lola had telegraphed to me that she was coming to England, therefore Iasked Vernon where she was. The old scoundrel replied that she was inCromer, and that if I went at a certain hour at night to a seat upon theEast Cliff, which he indicated, I should meet her there--that she had atryst with a secret lover. This naturally upset me, and I went, only todiscover Perceval, dressed in the old man's cape and hat, lying starkdead. Why was he wearing those clothes, I wonder?"
"I have only recently learnt the truth," Lola answered. "When you, sawthe old man, he believed me to be still in Paris, but when you inquiredfor me he, keen and crafty as he was, instantly discerned a means bywhich to entrap you. Therefore, saying nothing of his fear and intendedflight to Perceval, he arranged with that young impostor that the lattershould go to the seat dressed as himself, face you on your arrival,Edouard, and close your mouth for ever by exactly the same dastardly,silent and instant method as that adopted by Jeanjean--the gas pistol.My uncle found the weapon upon the body and carried it off."
"You had a very narrow escape, Mr. Craig," I remarked. "I sincerelycongratulate you."
"Ah! I know," the young man said hastily. "Had not that man yonderkilled Perceval by mistake, I should most certainly by now have been adead man. But when I quickly realized the tragedy that had happened, andfeared lest I might be suspected, I went off, and making my way out ofthe town, I walked through the night for twenty miles to Norwich, whenceI took train to London, and at once back to Italy."
"Did you afterwards read of the affair in the papers?" askedSommerville, amazed, like ourselves at the startling revelations.
"Of course. I followed every detail. But I did not come forward, for tworeasons. First I was--I frankly confess--deeply in love with Lola, andfeared to implicate her; and, secondly, for my mother's sake. I had nodesire to be mixed up in such an unsavoury and sensational affair, orwith such a notorious gang of criminals."
"Did you see much of Lola after the affair at Cromer?" I queried.
"I saw her once in Petersburg, where I followed her, also in Paris, andagain in London."
"And also once at Boscombe--eh?" I added, "when you were so veryannoyed."
"How do you know," he asked, starting, and at the same time laughing.
"Because I met you, and believing you had arisen from the dead, Iwatched you."
"I was in entire ignorance of it," he declared. "Yes, I was annoyedthat night, for, on looking inside the room, I saw a young man standingbeside the piano, admiring Lola."
"Oh!" she cried. "How foolish of you, Edouard! That was Mr. Burton, whois engaged to Winifred Featherstone!"
While these revelations had been made, Jules Jeanjean, wanted by thepolice of nearly every country in Europe for a number of desperatecrimes, remained silent, listening to the words of Lola and her lover,listening to the grim story of his own murderous treachery towards theman whom he had acknowledged as Master.
Suddenly, without warning, he burst from the men who held him, and witha spring bounded like some wild animal towards Lola, and would havethrown himself upon her, and strangled her, were it not that we all fellupon him with one accord, and threw him to the ground, while handcuffswere placed upon his wrists to prevent further violence.
"You infernal devils!" he cried in French. "I vowed you should nevertake me alive--and you shan't. You hear!" he yelled. "You shan't. I defyyou!"
"Ah!" laughed Sommerville in triumph. "But thanks to Mr. Vidal, we haveat last got you, my ingenious friend." Then turning to Rayner, he said:"Will you go and get two taxis? We'll take him to Bow Street, and theother fellow also."
Jeanjean cursed and shouted defiance, but his captors only laughed athim. In those gyves of steel he was their prisoner, and held for thejustice he so richly deserved.
CHAPTER XXXIV
CONCERNS TO-DAY
The next day the London papers were full of the raid upon Merton Lodge,the tragic death of the well-known diamond-broker, Gregory Vernon, andthe arrest of Jules Jeanjean and Egisto Bertini.
The police had given but the most meagre details to the Press, thereforethe re
port was only vague, and no hint was forthcoming as to the actualcharges against the three men, or that they had any connection with thecliff-mystery at Cromer.
The most sensational passage of the report, which was regarded as "thestory," or principal feature by most of the papers, was the fact thatJules Jeanjean, having been charged at Bow Street with robbery andmurder, was placed in the cells to be brought up next morning before themagistrate.
A warder, however, on going to the cell about half-past eight in theevening, found the prisoner standing before him in defiance.
"I refuse to be tried, after all!" he cried in English, in a loud voice,"I'll escape you yet!"
And before the man was aware of the prisoner's intention, he had placedhis right hand to his mouth, and with his left held his nostrilstightly.
The warder sprung upon him, but beneath his teeth the prisoner crushed asmall capsule of glass, while the fact that his nose was held caused himto inhale the gas compressed within the capsule, and next second hefell, inert, dead.
I read the report in breathless eagerness, and then I realized thatJules Jeanjean, alias Arendt, alias dozens of other names, had destroyedhimself with that combination of nitrate of amyl and hydrocyanic gas, asingle whiff of which was sufficient to cause instant death--the samelethal gas which the criminal had discharged in the face of youngPerceval, and alas! into the faces of others of his victims who had beenfound mysteriously dead on the scenes of the bandit's daring anddesperate exploits.
Truly he had been a veritable artist in crime, but as he sowed, so alsohad he reaped. The wages of sin are, indeed, death.
From Sommerville, a few weeks later, I gathered a few furtherinteresting details.
The man Hodrickx, together with two other men named Kunzle and Lavelle,had been arrested while committing a clever burglary at a jeweller's inthe Corso in Rome; while tests at the private wireless station inArkwright Road and at the Villa Beni Hassan, near Algiers, had provedconclusively that messages could be exchanged, as no doubt they oftenwere, but, being in a prearranged code, could not be read by the dozensof other receiving stations, commercial and amateur, which picked themup.
In due course Bertini, the ex-customs officer of Calais, was extraditedto Paris, where he took his trial before the Assize Court of the Seine,and was sentenced to a long term of penal servitude, which he is atpresent serving at the penal island of New Caledonia, in the farPacific.
As for myself, I still live in blessed singleness, and am a confirmedbachelor, and a constant investigator of problems of crime. With theever-faithful Rayner, I still occupy my cosy rooms off Berkeley Square,and, I may add, am still an intimate friend of Lola.
But she is now Mrs. Edward Craig, mistress of Huttoft Hall, and wife ofan immensely wealthy man. She is a prominent figure in the country, butnone, save her husband, myself and Rayner, know that she was, not solong ago, the confederate of the cleverest gang of international thievesthat has ever puzzled the police, or that she was then known to them as"The Nightingale."
Yes. The pair are both extremely happy, living solely for each other.Perhaps if I were not such a confirmed bachelor, an iron-grey-headed"uncle" to many a flapper niece, and jeered at by the schoolgirl readerof novels as an "old man," I might be just a little jealous.
But as things are, I am delighted to see my charming, delightful littlefriend so happy.
Often I am their guest at the fine, historic, sixteenth-century mansionstanding in its broad park, a few miles out of Monmouth. Indeed, it isbeneath their roof that, on this bright summer evening, while thecrimson after-glow is shining over the tops of the distant belt of darkfirs across the park, that I am setting down the concluding lines ofthis strange story of daring and ingenious crime, this drama which sonearly cost all three of us our lives at the hands of that unscrupulousgang of dastardly malefactors.
Edward Craig, and his wife, Lola, who returned from their honeymoon,spent first in Khartoum, and afterwards in India, six months ago, andhave now quite settled, have just come in from tennis. As they standtogether, upon the threshold of the big oak-panelled library, a handsomepair in white, hand-in-hand, hot and flushed from playing, Lola says,with a merry smile upon her bright, open countenance and a pretty accentin her voice--
"In your narrative of what has recently happened, M'sieur Vidal, pleasetell the reader, man and woman, that the long, grim night has at lastpassed, the dawn has broken, yet 'The Nightingale' still sings on moreblithely than ever, for she is at last supremely happy. At last,Edouard!" she adds, throwing her white arms about her husband's neck."At last!"
And the tall, handsome fellow in flannels bent until his lips met hers.
"Ah, yes, Lola, darling!" he whispered earnestly. "You aremine--mine--mine, for always. We have, as the Psalmist of old has putit, passed through the Place of Dragons, and been covered with theShadow of Death. But God in His justice has smitten the transgressors,and we have been delivered from the hand of the ungodly, into a world ofpeace, of happiness, and of love."
THE END
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The Place of Dragons: A Mystery Page 33
