The Place of Dragons: A Mystery
CHAPTER XVI
"WHERE THE TWO C'S MEET"
So Lola's portrait was in the hands of the French police. The factjarred upon me.
But I was careful not to betray any of the agitation I felt, and aftergazing upon it in silence I remarked in a light tone to Jonet--
"That is the only portrait you've got--eh? Rather good-looking, isn'tshe?"
"Good-looking! Ah, mon cher Vidal, extremely beautiful, I call her,"declared the Inspector, taking the picture and gazing upon it. "Really,"he added, "it hardly seems possible that such a pretty girl should besuch a hardened and expert thief as she is reported to be."
"I thought Jeanjean was the thief," I said with a pretence of surprise.
Jonet lit a fresh cigarette, after offering me one. Then he said--
"It is on record here," and he tapped the damning portfolio that layunder his hand, "that in at least half a dozen cases the methods havebeen the same. The Nightingale--as the girl, whose real name is LolaSorel, but who has a dozen aliases--is called by her friends, goes withher maid to one of the smartest hotels, say at Carlsbad, Nice, Aix,Trouville, or London, Berlin, anywhere, where there are usually wealthywomen. She is a modest little person, and makes a long stay, keeping herblue eyes well open for any visitor possessed of valuable jewellery.Having fixed upon one, she carefully cultivates the lady's acquaintance,is extremely affable, and soon becomes on such intimate terms with herthat she is admitted to her bedroom, and is then able to discover wherethe lady's jewels are kept--whether the case is sufficiently small to beportable, and if not, what kind of lock it has. Every detail shecarefully notes and passes on to Jeanjean, who, when the _coup_ isready, appears from nowhere. He is too wary to stay in the same hotel."
"Then the girl has a maid with her!" I exclaimed.
"Invariably," was Jonet's reply. "But the methods by which the robberiesare carried out are varied. In some cases the pretty Lola has simplyseized an opportunity to transfer her 'friend's' jewel-case to her ownroom, whence it has been abstracted in her absence by Jeanjean. In othercases while she has been out with the owner of the jewels, motoring, orshopping, or at the theatre, Jeanjean, having had the tip from hisniece, has slipped in and secured the valuables. Again this method hasbeen varied by Lola stealing the best piece from the victim's room andin the night handing it to Jeanjean from her bedroom window, as was doneat Cannes last winter, when the Princess Tynarowski lost her diamondcollar after a brief acquaintance with the fascinating Lola. The latterremained in the hotel for nearly a fortnight following the theft andleft still enjoying the greatest friendship of the unsuspecting victim."
"Then this girl must be very clever and daring," I exclaimed.
"Yes. She is the tool of that scoundrel Jeanjean," declared Jonet,closing the dossier. "Poor girl. Probably she acts entirely against herwill. The brute has her in his power, as so many girls are in the powerof unscrupulous men in the criminal under-world. They, in theirinnocence, commit one crime, perhaps unconsciously, and for yearsafterwards they are threatened with exposure to us; so, in order topurchase their liberty, they are forced to become thieves andadventuresses. Ah, yes, mon cher Vidal, that is a curious and tragicside of criminal life, one of which the world never dreams."
"Then you do not believe this girl is really a criminal from instinct?"I asked eagerly.
"No. She is under the all-compelling influence of Jeanjean, who will nothesitate to take a life if it suits him; the man who has set at naughtevery law of our civilized existence."
"Her position must be one full of terror," I said.
"Yes. Poor girl. Though I have never seen her, to my knowledge, yet I,even though I am a police functionary, cannot help feeling pity for her.Think what a girl forced into crime by such a man must suffer! Rotherain his report says she is extremely refined and full of personal charm."
"That is why wealthy women find her such a pleasant and engagingcompanion, I suppose."
"No doubt. Most middle-aged women take an interest in a pretty girl,especially if she can tell a good story of her unhappiness with herparents, or of some sorrowful love affair," remarked Jonet. "I expectshe can romance as well as you can, my friend," he laughed. "And you area professional writer."
"Better, in all probability," I rejoined, also laughing. "At any rate itseems that, by her romances, this fellow Jeanjean reaps a goldenharvest."
"And I dare say her profits are not very much," said the policeofficial. "He probably pays all her hotel bills, and gives her a littleover for pocket money."
"And the maid?"
"Ah! She must be one of the gang. They would never risk being given awayby one who was not in the swim. The maid, if she were in ignorance ofwhat went on, would very quickly scent some mystery, for each time heryoung mistress found a new friend in an hotel she would notice thatjewels invariably were reported missing, and a hue and cry raised. No.The maid is an accomplice, and at this moment I am doing all I can tofix the interesting pair."
"And you will arrest them?"
"Of course," he replied determinedly. "I sympathize with the prettylittle thief, yet I have my duty to perform. Besides, if I have theinteresting little lady here before me for interrogation, I shall, Ithink, not be very long before I discover our friend Jeanjean in hissecret hiding-place."
I did not answer for several minutes.
A trap had evidently been laid for Lola, and, in her own interests, sheshould be warned.
Continuing, I further questioned my friend, and he told me someastounding stories of Jeanjean's elusiveness. I, however, said nothingof what I knew. I remained silent regarding the curious affair inCromer, and as to my knowledge that the pretty villa near Algiersconcealed the man for whom all the police of Europe were in search.
My chief concern was for Lola, and that same evening I wrote to her atthe Poste Restante at Versailles giving her warning of what wasintended. She was probably in Brussels, but in due course would, nodoubt, receive my letter, and see me again, as I requested.
On two other occasions I saw Jonet, but he had no further informationregarding Jeanjean and his gang. The chief point which puzzled himseemed to be the fact that not a single stone, out of all the stolenjewels, had been traced.
"The receiver is an absolute mystery," he declared. "Perhaps the stuffgoes to London."
"Perhaps," I said. "Have you made inquiry of Scotland Yard?"
"Oh, yes. I was over there a month ago. But they either know nothing, orelse they are not inclined to help us." Then with a faint smile headded, "As you know, mon cher ami, I have no very great admiration foryour English police. Their laws are always in favour of the criminal,and their slowness of movement is astounding to us."
"Yes. Your methods are more drastic and more effective in the detectionof crime," I admitted.
"And in its prevention," he added.
That day was the twenty-sixth of August, and as I walked along the Ruede Rivoli back to the _Hotel Meurice_, I suddenly remembered themysterious tryst contained in that letter found in the pocket of EdwardCraig. The appointment at the spot, "where the two C's meet," at Ealing.
I left Paris that night by the mail-train, crossed from Calais to Dover,and at noon next day alighted at Ealing Broadway station.
I had never been in Ealing before, and spent several hours wanderingabout its quiet, well-kept suburban roads, many of them ofcomfortable-looking detached villas. But I found the district a perfectmaze of streets, therefore I went and sat on one of the seats in thesmall park in front of the station, wondering how best to act.
Two clear days were still before me ere the meeting which had apparentlybeen arranged with old Gregory--the man with the master-mind.
"Where the two C's meet."
I lunched at the _Feathers Hotel_ near the station, and all that hotafternoon wandered the streets, but failed to discover any clue. What"C's" were meant? Possibly two persons whose initials were C were in thehabit of meeting at some spot, or in some house at Ealing--and Ealing isa big place when one
is presented with such a problem.
Fagged and hungry, I returned to my rooms in Carlos Place, off BerkeleySquare, where Rayner was awaiting me. He knew the object of my search,and as he admitted me, asked if I had been successful.
"No, Rayner, I haven't," I snapped. "I can see no ray of daylight yet.The appointment is an important one, no doubt, and one which we shouldwatch. But how?"
"Well, sir," he replied, as I cast myself into my big arm-chair, and hegot out my slippers, "we could watch the two railway stations at Ealing,and see if we detect old Gregory, or any of the others."
"They might go to Ealing in a tram or a taxi," I suggested.
"Yes, sir. But there'll be no harm in watching the trains, will there?"my man remarked. "If he went in a taxi he might leave by train."
"True," I said, and after a few seconds' reflection, added, "Yes. We'lltry the trains."
So, on the night of the twenty-ninth, at about nine o'clock in theevening, I took up my post in the small arcade which formed the exit ofthe station and there waited patiently.
I was in a shabby tweed suit, with patched boots, and a cloth golf-cap,presenting the appearance of a respectable workman, as I smoked myshort briar-pipe and idled over the _Evening News_.
As each train arrived I eagerly scanned the emerging passengers, whilepretending to look in the shop window, but I saw nobody whom I knew.
The expression, "Where the two C's meet," kept running through my mindas I stood there in impatient inactivity. It was already past nine, and,in three-quarters of an hour, the fateful meeting, for somehow I feltthat it was a fateful meeting, would be held.
The two "C's." The idea suddenly flashed across my mind, whether thespot indicated could be the junction of two roads, or streets, the namesof which commenced with "C." Yet, how could I satisfy myself? If Isearched Ealing again for roads commencing with a "C," I could only doso in daylight, too late to learn what I so dearly wished.
Of a porter I inquired the time of arrival of the next underground trainand found that I had eight minutes. So I dashed along to the _FeathersHotel_, where I obtained a map of the Ealing district and eagerlyscanned it to find streets commencing with "C."
For some minutes I was unsuccessful, until of a sudden I noticedCastlebar Road, and examining the map carefully saw, to my excitement,that at an acute angle it joined another road, called Carlton Road, atriangular open space lying between the two thoroughfares.
It was the spot in Ealing where the two C's met!
I glanced at the clock.
It still wanted a quarter to ten, therefore I drained my glass hastilyand, leaving the hotel, struck across the small open space opposite thestation, in which, in a direct line, lay the junction of the two roads.
The evening was dark and sultry, with every indication of athunderstorm. I remembered Rayner's vigil, but alas! had no time to goto him and explain my altered plans.
Along the dark, rather ill-lit, suburban road I hurried until, beforeme, I saw a big electric-light standard with four great inverted globes.
It showed a parting of the ways.
I looked at my watch as I passed a street-lamp, and saw that it wantedtwo minutes to ten.
And as I looked on ahead I saw, standing back in the shadow of thetrees, on the left-hand, a dark figure, but in the distance I could notdistinguish whether a man or a woman waited there.
I hurried forward, full of eagerness, to witness the secret meeting, andwith an intention of watching and following those who met.
Yet, could I have foreseen the due result of such inquisitiveness, Iscarcely think that I would have dared to tread ground so highlydangerous.