CHAPTER XXV
THE GLITTERING UNDERWORLD
Never shall I forget that astounding spectacle. Even as I think of itnow, it rises once more before me.
The room, though low, was very long and very broad; I guessed at oncethat originally it must have been a cellar, or possibly a series ofcellars. Now as the brilliant electric rays from a dozen powerfulceiling lamps shone down through their tinted shades, they lit up acollection of treasure such as few indeed can have gazed upon.
Heaped upon trays on tables all about the room were unset preciousstones of every conceivable description, which glittered andscintillated in the most wonderful way imaginable. Upon the floor, inrough, uncovered boxes, heaps of gold bracelets and brooches, gold ringsand gold chains, gold ornaments and trinkets, and bits of miscellaneousjewellery were piled high in inextricable confusion, as though they hadbeen tossed there to be thrown on to a waste heap. Upon the ground werebars of gold, the thickness of a brick, ranged carefully in rows. At oneend of the room was a small smelting furnace, not now alight, and aboveit an iron brazier. Upon the walls hung sets of furs, many seal-skin andermine, while at one side of the room, upon the ground, lay piled upsome thousands of silver spoons and forks, also silver drinking cupsand candlesticks, many silver salvers, and an endless assortment ofsilver articles of every kind.
When at last I had recovered from my astonishment, I turned abruptly toFrancois, who stood at my elbow.
"This, I suppose," I said, speaking in a whisper, "is a sort ofclearing-house for stolen property."
He nodded.
"The largest in the whole of France"--he added a moment later, "thelargest, possibly, anywhere in Europe. Stolen goods come here from allthe Continental centres; also from Great Britain, the United States, andeven from Australia."
"But surely," I said, "the police know of this place?"
"They know that it exists, but they don't know where it is. You see howimplicitly I trust you, what faith I place in the honour of--agentleman."
"I think not," I corrected. "You know that my tongue is tied--becauseyou saved my life. That is why you trust me."
He smiled grimly.
"But why have you brought me here?" I asked, after a pause.
"For the reason I have named--to show how implicitly I trust you."
It was only then that a thought flashed in upon me.
"You say," I exclaimed sharply, "that jewellery stolen in Great Britainsometimes finds its way here?"
"Most of the English stuff is got rid of in this room."
"And are you--do your--your 'clients' tell you where the 'stuff' comesfrom?"
"Always," the gaunt man answered. "That is a condition of my taking itoff their hands. You will understand that large rewards are sometimesoffered for the return of property intact and uninjured."
I paused to collect my thoughts before speaking again, anxious not tomake a false step.
"Can you recollect," I said at last, "if jewellery taken from a countryhouse in Berkshire, England--the house is called Holt Manor--just afterChristmas, ever found its way here?"
The gaunt man reflected for a moment. Then, without speaking, he walkedacross the room, unlocked the door of a little safe which was let intothe wall, took from the safe a fat, leather-bound ledger, opened it, andran his finger down a page.
"Yes," he said in his deep voice. "The property was valued at abouttwelve or fourteen thousand pounds. I have here a list of the articles."
Turning, he peered oddly at me out of his strange eyes.
"May I see the list?" I asked quickly.
"Have you a reason for wanting to see it?"
"Yes. Some of the jewellery taken had been generations in the family. Ifit is intact still, I may be able to get a fancy price offered for it,or for some of it."
"_Bien_" he said. "Much of the stuff has been melted down, but not all."
I read carefully down the list, which, arranged neatly andsystematically, showed at once what had been melted down, and how it hadbeen disposed of, while a complete list was given of articles keptintact. Among the latter I recognized several bits of jewellery whichDulcie had greatly valued, and quickly I arranged with the gaunt man tobuy them from him then and there. After that the three of us sat talkingfor a considerable time, and before the time arrived for me to leave Iknew beyond doubt that the jewellery I had caught sight of when ConnieStapleton's bag had burst open in the train had been the jewellery, orsome of it, stolen on board the boat.
"Some day we may meet again," I said as I parted from Francois and hiscompanion, in the little greengrocer's shop.
"Some day we shall," the cadaverous man answered in a strange voice. Heextended his hand, and I shook it. A minute later I was in a taxi,hurrying through the streets of Lyons towards the Perrache station.
As the express sped rapidly towards Paris, endless strange reflectionsand conjectures crowded my brain. Was I acting wisely in thus returningto the French capital, where I might so easily be recognized, seeing howanxious I was that my friends in England should think me dead? I was--Iknew--though I did not admit it even to myself--returning to Parismainly in the hope that I might catch a glimpse of Dulcie. And yet if Idid see her, of what use would it be? Also, what should I do? Let herrecognize me, and the plan I had formed to get the scoundrels arrestedwould most likely be spoiled at once--and more than ever I was nowdetermined to bring them to justice in the end.
I fell into a deep sleep, for I was tired out; I had slept little enoughduring that night-long journey in the stolen car. When I awoke, thetrain was steaming into Paris; an official, who had aroused me byrubbing his hand upon my cheek, stood awaiting a _pourboire._
"Go to the Hotel Continental," I said in French to the driver of thetaxi into which I had just stepped with my newly-bought valise. "Getthere as quickly as you can."
That I was doing a mad thing in thus returning to the hotel, where inall probability the members of the gang were still staying, I knew. Buta man in love hardly reckons with risks, and as I lay back in the taxi,my brain awhirl, I knew that I was as desperately in love as it ispossible for man to be.
Paris--gay Paris--looked gloomy enough in the dull blue haze which hungover and partly enveloped its deserted, dreary streets. Happening toglance up at the windows of a house with green sun-shutters half open,my eyes met those of a faded girl with touzled hair, peering down intothe street, and mechanically she ogled me. In disgust I averted my gaze,hating, for the moment, my own sex, which made such women possible. Onand on the car rolled. Some revellers in dishevelled evening clothes,their eyes round and staring, their faces ghastly in the morning light,stumbled out beneath an archway above which a lamp burned dully with anorange glow.
Everything and everyone seemed only half awake. The reception clerk atthe hotel was sulky and inclined to be argumentative. Yes, he waspositive, he said in reply to my inquiry, that nobody of the name ofChalloner was staying at the hotel,--no, nor yet of the name ofStapleton. They had slept there the night before? Yes, that was quitepossible, but he was not concerned with people who had stayed there,only with the people who were there then. He had no idea, he added, atwhat time they had left, nor yet where they had gone--and did I need aroom, or didn't I? Because if I didn't I had better go away.
His impertinence annoyed me, but I had too much to think about to havetime to lose my temper. I told him I needed a room, and I sent up myvalise. A bath, a shave and a change of clothes braced me considerably,and by the time I reached the coffee-room I felt thoroughly refreshed.
What adventures had befallen me since I had breakfasted in that room,only forty-eight hours before, I reflected, as the waiter approachedwith the _Figaro_. Breakfast was laid for a hundred or more, but barelya dozen people were in the room. All were strangers to me, so I soonbecame engrossed in the newspaper.
My attention was distracted by the waiter, who, again approaching,turned up two chairs at my table.
"With all those tables empty," I said to him with a wave of the h
and,"you can surely put people elsewhere. I don't want strangers here."
He smiled pleasantly, showing extraordinarily white teeth.
"A gentleman and lady wish to sit at monsieur's table," he said, bowingpolitely, and still smiling.
"Monsieur will not object?"
He seemed so amiable that I felt I couldn't be rude to him.
"But who are the lady and gentleman? And why did they specify thistable?" I asked, puzzled.
The waiter gave a little shrug, raising his eyebrows as he did so.
"How can I tell?" he answered. "They come to the door a moment ago,while monsieur is reading his newspaper; they see monsieur; they speak_ensemble_ in whispers for some moments, it would seem about monsieur;and then they call me and tell me to serve their _dejeuner_ atmonsieur's table."
Hardly had he stopped speaking, when my gaze rested upon two people whohad just entered and were approaching.
One was the police official, Victor Albeury. The other was DulcieChalloner!
They greeted me with, I thought, rather exaggerated nonchalance as theycame up, then seated themselves, one on either side of me, Albeurytelling the waiter to "hurry up with the breakfast that he had orderedfive minutes ago."
I was puzzled, rather than surprised, at the matter-of-fact way thatAlbeury and Dulcie conversed with me--few things astonished me now. Hadwe all been on the best of terms, and met after being separated for halfan hour or so, they could hardly have been more composed. For fiveminutes we discussed commonplace topics, when suddenly I noticed thatAlbeury was looking at me very hard. Dulcie, too, seemed to have growncuriously uneasy.
"Whereabouts is he?" Albeury said quickly in a low tone, glancingsharply at Dulcie. The door was at the back.
"Gone," she whispered. She seemed greatly agitated.
"Mr. Berrington," Albeury said hurriedly, his eyes set on mine, "Isuspect that man. They all left last night. He arrived just before theyleft. I happened to see Doris Lorrimer engaged in earnest conversationwith him."
"Of whom are you speaking?" I asked, not understanding.
"Of the waiter at this table--that polite, unctuous man I saw talkingto you. Listen. I have rescued Miss Challoner from Stapleton and heraccomplices. We are going to leave Paris for London in less than half anhour; it's not safe for Miss Challoner to stay here longer. And you musttravel with us. It is imperative that you should. I can't say more toyou now, while that man is hanging about. Tell me quickly, before hereturns: what happened to you yesterday? Where were you last night?"
"Oh, Mike!" Dulcie interrupted, "if you only knew the mental agony Ihave suffered, all that I endured last night--Mike, I dreamed that youwere dead, I dreamed that they had killed you!"
I stared at her, startled.
"They tried to," I almost whispered. "But they failed, and now I--"
"Mr. Berrington," Albeury cut in, "you must forgive my brusqueness--yourbreakfast will be brought to you in a moment; when it is, don't eat it.Make any excuse you like, but don't eat it."
"Good God!" I exclaimed, instantly guessing his thought, "surely youcan't suppose--"
"I can, and do suppose. More than that, I am practically certain that--"
He cut his sentence short, for Dulcie had signalled with her eyes. Thewaiter had re-entered the room.
I breathed more freely when at last the three of us were on our way tothe railway station. Strange as it may seem, I had experienced somedifficulty in ridding myself of the officious attentions of the smiling,smooth-tongued, extremely plausible waiter.
On board the steamer, in a corner of the saloon where none couldeavesdrop, I related to Dulcie how I had been bound, gagged, borne outof the hotel upon the stretcher concealed beneath a sheet, and all thathad subsequently occurred that I felt justified in telling her. Of thethieves' clearing-house in Lyons and my rescuer's connection with it,also of the discovery of the whereabouts of her stolen property, I couldof course say nothing, my lips being in honour sealed.
A little later, as beneath the stars we slowly paced the deck--the seawas wonderfully smooth for the end of February--Dulcie opened her heartto me, as I had so long hoped she some day would.
"Oh, if only you knew," she suddenly exclaimed in an access of emotion,after I had, for a little while, tried to draw her on to talk aboutherself, "if only you knew all that I have been through, Mike, you wouldbe sorry for me!"
"Why don't you tell me everything, my darling?" I answered gently, and,almost without my knowing it, I drew her closer to me. "You know--youmust know, that I won't repeat to a living soul anything you may say."
"Oh, yes, Mike, of course I know," she said, pressing my hands in hers,as though she sought protection, "but there is--"
"There is what?"
She glanced to right and left, up the dark deck, and down it, then gavea little shudder. But for ourselves, the deck was quite deserted.
"I hardly know," she almost whispered, and I felt her tremblingstrangely. "Somehow I feel nervous, frightened. I feel as if some dangerwere approaching--approaching both of us."
Again she looked about her. Then, as I spoke soothingly, she graduallygrew calmer.
"I was very, very fond of Connie Stapleton, you know," she saidpresently, "and I thought that she liked me. That time, at Holt, whenyou warned me to beware of her, I felt as if I hated you. She influencedme so strangely, Mike,--I cannot explain how. Mike, my darling, I tellyou this now because somehow I feel you will forgive me, as at last it'sall over. It seems so odd now to think of it, but as I grew to love hermy love for you seemed to grow less--I knew from the first that shedetested my loving you so, and if I spoke much about you to her itannoyed her. She wanted to destroy my love for you, Mike, but never, allthe time I have been with her, did I say a word against you. Do youbelieve me when I tell you that?"
Later she told me that the woman had quite recently hinted at her doingcertain things she hardly dared to think about, and that, the very daybefore, she had disclosed a horrible plan which she had formulated, inwhich Dulcie was to play a very important part--a plan to do with arobbery on a very extensive scale.
"Oh, Mike, Mike," she went on, "I must have been mad during these pastweeks to have listened to what she hinted at--I was mad, or else she hadcompletely hypnotized me. You remember Mr. Osborne's being taken to thathouse in Grafton Street, and kept there in confinement, and the telegramI received that was supposed to come from you? Well, I know now who itwas who kept him there a prisoner, and came to him in the dark, andquestioned him, and tried to get him to reveal information which healone could give. The man who did all that was--"
A footstep just behind us made us both turn quickly. A faint light stillshone along the almost dark deck. Before I could recognize the figure,before I had time to speak, Dulcie had sprung suddenly forward andgripped the muffled man by the arm.
"Father!" she exclaimed under her breath, with difficulty controllingher emotion, "father, what are you doing here?"