A Prince of Swindlers (8 page)

“If my master pleases,” replied the other.

Carne accordingly turned it in the lock, and, having done so, raised the lid and looked inside. His astonishment was complete. To all intents and purposes the box was empty. The comb was not to be seen, and yet the quilted sides and bottom were, to all appearances, just the same as when he had first looked inside.

“This is most wonderful,” he said. And indeed it was as clever a conjuring trick as any he had ever seen.

“Nay, it is very simple,” Wajib Baksh replied. “The Heaven-born told me that there must be no risk of detection.”

He took the box in his own hands and, running his nails down the centre of the quilting, dividing the false bottom into two pieces; these he lifted out, revealing the comb lying upon the real bottom beneath.

“The sides, as my lord will see,” said Hiram Singh, taking a step forward, “are held in their appointed places by these two springs. Thus, when the key is turned the springs relax, and the sides are driven by others into their places on the bottom, where the seams in the quilting mask the join. There is but one disadvantage. It is as follows: When the pieces which form the bottom are lifted out in order that my lord may get at whatever lies concealed beneath, the springs must of necessity stand revealed. However, to any one who knows sufficient of the working of the box to lift out the false bottom, it will be an easy matter to withdraw the springs and conceal them about his person.”

“As you say that is an easy matter,” said Carne, “and I shall not be likely to forget. Now one other question. Presuming I am in a position to put the real box into your hands for say eight hours, do you think that in that time you can fit it up so that detection will be impossible?”

“Assuredly, my lord,” replied Hiram Singh with conviction. “There is but the lock and the fitting of the springs to be done. Three hours at most would suffice for that.”

“I am pleased with you,” said Carne. “As a proof of my satisfaction, when the work is finished you will each receive five hundred rupees. Now you can go.”

According to his promise, ten o'clock on the Friday following found him in his hansom driving towards Belgrave Square. He was a little anxious, though the casual observer would scarcely have been able to tell it. The magnitude of the stake for which he was playing was enough to try the nerve of even such a past master in his profession as Simon Carne.

Arriving at the house he discovered some workmen erecting an awning across the footway in preparation for the ball that was to take place at night. It was not long, however, before he found himself in the boudoir, reminding Her Grace of her promise to permit him an opportunity of making a drawing of the famous jewel case. The Duchess was naturally busy, and within a quarter of an hour he was on his way home with the box placed on the seat of the carriage beside him.

“Now,” he said, as he patted it good-humouredly, “if only the notion worked out by Hiram Singh and Wajib Baksh holds good, the famous Wiltshire diamonds will become my property before very many hours are passed. By this time to-morrow, I suppose, London will be all agog concerning the burglary.”

On reaching his house he left his carriage, and himself carried the box into his study. Once there he rang his bell and ordered Hiram Singh and Wajib Baksh to be sent to him. When they arrived he showed them the box upon which they were to exercise their ingenuity.

“Bring your tools in here,” he said, “and do the work under my own eyes. You have but nine hours before you, so you must make the most of them.”

The men went for their implements, and as soon as they were ready set to work. All through the day they were kept hard at it, with the result that by five o'clock the alterations had been effected and the case stood ready. By the time Carne returned from his afternoon drive in the Park it was quite prepared for the part it was to play in his scheme. Having praised the men, he turned them out and locked the door, then went across the room and unlocked a drawer in his writing table. From it he took a flat leather jewel case, which he opened. It contained a necklace of counterfeit diamonds, if anything a little larger than the one he intended to try to obtain. He had purchased it that morning in the Burlington Arcade for the purpose of testing the apparatus his servants had made, and this he now proceeded to do.

Laying it carefully upon the bottom he closed the lid and turned the key. When he opened it again the necklace was gone, and even though he knew the secret he could not for the life of him see where the false bottom began and ended. After that he reset the trap and tossed the necklace carelessly in. To his delight it acted as well as on the previous occasion. He could scarcely contain his satisfaction. His conscience was sufficiently elastic to give him no trouble. To him it was scarcely a robbery he was planning, but an artistic trial of skill, in which he pitted his wits and cunning against the forces of society in general.

At half-past seven he dined, and afterwards smoked a meditative cigar over the evening paper in the billiard room. The invitations to the ball were for ten o'clock, and at nine-thirty he went to his dressing-room.

“Make me tidy as quickly as you can,” he said to Belton when the latter appeared, “and while you are doing so listen to my final instructions.”

“To-night, as you know, I am endeavouring to secure the Duchess of Wiltshire's necklace. To-morrow morning all London will resound with the hubbub, and I have been making my plans in such a way as to arrange that Klimo shall be the first person consulted. When the messenger calls, if call he does, see that the old woman next door bids him tell the Duke to come personally at twelve o'clock. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly, sir?”

“Very good. Now give me the jewel case, and let me be off. You need not sit up for me.”

Precisely as the clocks in the neighbourhood were striking ten Simon Carne reached Belgrave Square, and, as he hoped, found himself the first guest.

His hostess and her husband received him in the ante-room of the drawing-room.

“I come laden with a thousand apologies,” he said as he took Her Grace's hand, and bent over it with that ceremonious politeness which was one of the man's chief characteristics. “I am most unconscionably early, I know, but I hastened here in order that I might personally return the jewel case you so kindly lent me. I must trust to your generosity to forgive me. The drawings took longer than I expected.”

“Please do not apologise,” answered Her Grace. “It is very kind of you to have brought the case yourself. I hope the illustrations have proved successful. I shall look forward to seeing them as soon as they are ready. But I am keeping you holding the box. One of my servants will take it to my room.”

She called a footman to her, and bade him take the box and place it upon her dressing-table.

“Before it goes I must let you see that I have not damaged it either externally or internally,” said Carne with a laugh. “It is such a valuable case that I should never forgive myself if it had even received a scratch during the time it has been in my possession.”

So saying he lifted the lid and allowed her to look inside. To all appearance it was exactly the same as when she had lent it to him earlier in the day.

“You have been most careful,” she said. And then, with an air of banter, she continued: “If you desire it, I shall be pleased to give you a certificate to that effect.”

They jested in this fashion for a few moments after the servant's departure, during which time Carne promised to call upon her the following morning at
11
o'clock, and to bring with him the illustrations he had made and a queer little piece of china he had had the good fortune to pick up in a dealer's shop the previous afternoon. By this time fashionable London was making its way up the grand staircase, and with its appearance further conversation became impossible.

Shortly after midnight Carne bade his hostess good-night and slipped away. He was perfectly satisfied with his evening's entertainment, and if the key of the jewel case were not turned before the jewels were placed in it, he was convinced they would become his property. It speaks well for his strength of nerve when I record the fact that on going to bed his slumbers were as peaceful and untroubled as those of a little child.

Breakfast was scarcely over next morning before a hansom drew up at his front door and Lord Amberley alighted. He was ushered into Carne's presence forthwith, and on seeing that the latter was surprised at his early visit, hastened to explain.

“My dear fellow,” he said, as he took possession of the chair the other offered him, “I have come round to see you on most important business. As I told you last night at the dance, when you so kindly asked me to come and see the steam yacht you have purchased, I had an appointment with Wiltshire at half-past nine this morning. On reaching Belgrave Square, I found the whole house in confusion. Servants were running hither and thither with scared faces, the butler was on the borders of lunacy, the Duchess was well-nigh hysterical in her boudoir, while her husband was in his study vowing vengeance against all the world.”

“You alarm me,” said Carne, lighting a cigarette with a hand that was as steady as a rock. “What on earth has happened?”

“I think I might safely allow you fifty guesses and then wager a hundred pounds you'd not hit the mark; and yet in a certain measure it concerns you.”

“Concerns me? Good gracious! What have I done to bring all this about?”

“Pray do not look so alarmed,” said Amberley. Personally you have done nothing. Indeed, on second thoughts, I don't know that I am right in saying that it concerns you at all. The fact of the matter is, Carne, a burglary took place last night at Wiltshire House,
and the famous necklace has disappeared
.”

“Good heavens! You don't say so?”

“But I
do
. The circumstances of the case are as follows: When my cousin retired to her room last night after the ball, she unclasped the necklace, and, in her husband's presence, placed it carefully in her jewel case, which she locked. That having been done, Wiltshire took the box to the room which contained the safe, and himself placed it there, locking the iron door with his own key. The room was occupied that night, according to custom, by the butler and one of the footmen, both of whom have been in the family since they were boys.

“Next morning, after breakfast, the Duke unlocked the safe and took out the box, intending to convey it to the Bank as usual. Before leaving, however, he placed it on his study-table and went upstairs to speak to his wife. He cannot remember exactly how long he was absent, but he feels convinced that he was not gone more than a quarter of an hour at the very utmost.

“Their conversation finished, she accompanied him downstairs, where she saw him take up the case to carry it to his carriage. Before he left the house, however, she said: ‘I suppose you have looked to see that the necklace is all right?' ‘How could I do so?' was his reply. ‘You know you possess the only key that will fit it?'

“She felt in her pockets, but to her surprise the key was not there.”

“If I were a detective I should say that that is a point to be remembered,” said Carne with a smile. “Pray, where did she find her keys?”

“Upon her dressing-table,” said Amberley. “Though she has not the slightest recollection of leaving them there.”

“Well, when she had procured the keys, what happened?”

“Why, they opened the box, and, to their astonishment and dismay,
found it empty
.
The jewels were gone!
”

“Good gracious! What a terrible loss! It seems almost impossible that it can be true. And pray, what did they do?”

“At first they stood staring into the empty box, hardly believing the evidence of their own eyes. Stare how they would, however, they could not bring them back. The jewels had, without doubt, disappeared, but when and where the robbery had taken place it was impossible to say. After that they had up all the servants and questioned them, but the result was what they might have foreseen, no one from the butler to the kitchenmaid could throw any light upon the subject. To this minute it remains as great a mystery as when they first discovered it.”

“I am more concerned than I can tell you,” said Carne. “How thankful I ought to be that I returned the case to Her Grace last night. But in thinking of myself I am forgetting to ask what has brought you to me. If I can be of any assistance I hope you will command me.”

“Well, I'll tell you why I have come,” replied Lord Amberley. “Naturally, they are most anxious to have the mystery solved and the jewels recovered as soon as possible. Wiltshire wanted to send to Scotland Yard there and then, but his wife and I eventually persuaded him to consult Klimo. As you know, if the police authorities are called in first, he refuses the business altogether. Now, we thought, as you are his next door neighbour, you might possibly be able to assist us.”

“You may be very sure, my lord, I will do everything that lies in my power. Let us go in and see him at once.”

As he spoke he rose and threw what remained of his cigarette into the fireplace. His visitor having imitated his example, they procured their hats and walked round from Park Lane into Belverton Street to bring up at No.
1
. After they had rung the bell the door was opened to them by the old woman who invariably received the detective's clients.

“Is Mr. Klimo at home?” asked Carne. “And if so, can we see him?”

The old lady was a little deaf, and the question had to be repeated before she could be made to understand what was wanted. As soon, however, as she realized their desire, she informed them that her master was absent from town, but would be back as usual at twelve o'clock to meet his clients.

“What on earth's to be done?” said the Earl, looking at his companion in dismay. “I am afraid I can't come back again, as I have a most important appointment at that hour.”