It was a lovely morning when at last we steamed into the estuary of the Seine, and I shall never forget how beautiful the river and its banks looked as I peered out through my port-hole and we crept up towards Rouen. My meals had all been served in my cabin during the voyage, as I could not well have taken the suit-case with me into the saloon.
Now I felt like a prisoner about to be released.
Mr. Rayne had told me to stop at the post-office in Rouen on my way from the boat to Paris, as I might, he said, find a letter or a telegram awaiting me. I had managed to pass the suit-case through the Customs, and now my heart beat faster as a letter was handed to me, for I recognized Lolas handwriting; I had seen it only once before that was on a letter she had asked me to post for her.
I hurriedly tore open the envelope, and this was what I read:
Private. I have suspicion that the suit-case you have you should get rid of at once. Destroy this!
Undated and unsigned, the letter bore no address. At once thoughts and conjectures of all sorts came crowding into my mind. Could it be that the suit-case contained stolen jewelry and not documents?
Instantly I guessed why Rayne had sent me to Paris with it by that roundabout route. He must either himself be the thief, I concluded, or an accomplice in the theft, and by placing the stolen property in my charge and smuggling it out of England by a circuitous route
One reflection led quickly to another. Paul, the valet, no doubt knew about his masters private life possibly was in his confidence. And if Rayne had committed the robbery he must be a professional crook. In which case, should the whereabouts of the stolen property be discovered, I should be arrested as an accessory to the crime! Clearly I had no time to lose if I wanted to safeguard myself. Even now the police, with their wonderful acumen, might be on my track!
I reached Paris at last, and as my taxi swung round from the Place Jeanne dArc into the Rue de Rivoli I began to feel extremely nervous.
In reply to my inquiry at the bureau of the smart Hôtel Ombrone I was told that I could be given a bed. Monsieur Duperré? Ah, monsieur had just gone out, but would be back soon, most likely.
I had been given the key of my room, and was about to enter the lift, when I noticed seated on a settee in the vestibule a well-dressed woman whose face seemed familiar. And then in a flash I recognized the lady who had been at Overstow Hall on the day I had arrived there!
She did not recognize me, or I concluded she did not, and naturally it was no business of mine to make any sign of recognition.
I had been in my room, I suppose, about two hours when the telephone bell rang.
That Mr. Hargreave? The bureau speaking. Monsieur Duperré has come in and is coming up to you now.
A minute later somebody knocked, and I called Come in! Then, to my amazement, who should enter but my old company commander in France in the early days of the war Captain Vincent Deinhard, who later in the war had been court-martialed for misappropriating canteen funds and been subsequently cashiered! Altogether his Army record had been an exceedingly bad one.
Instantly I remembered the voice. It was Deinhard I had heard in conversation with Rayne at Overstow Hall!
He stood stock-still, staring at me.
Why, Hargreave! he exclaimed at last. What in the world are you doing here?
I am Mr. Raynes chauffeur and general servant now, captain, I replied. Mr. Rayne told me to inquire on my arrival here for Monsieur Duperré and hand him that suit-case, and I pointed to it.
He glanced quickly at the door, to make sure that it was shut, then, looking at me oddly, he said in a low voice:
I am Duperré, Hargreave. You must forget that my name was ever anything else I got myself into trouble in the Army, you remember and you must forget that too and that we have ever met before. So you are his new chauffeur, eh? he went on, now talking naturally. It never occurred to me that Hargreave, the new chauffeur, would turn out to be the Hargreave who served under me for two years! and he laughed dryly.
Then, without a word, he went over to the suit-case and picked it up.
Come along to my room, he said.
CHAPTER II
ROOM NUMBER 88
I accompanied him along the corridor to a private sitting-room at the end, numbered 88, and adjoining which was a bedroom. There he placed the suit-case upon the table, and taking a piece of paper scribbled a receipt.
Better post that on to Rayne at once, he suggested. My wife will be here in a moment. Well have lunch later on.
All that had already happened had so astonished me that I was only slightly surprised at finding a few moments later that the lady I had seen at Overstow Hall, and again a couple of hours before in the vestibule of the hotel, was Duperrés wife. He must, I think, have told her that we had met before, for she seemed in no way astonished at Mr. Raynes chauffeur being presented to her.
I found her a pleasant woman, well-read, well-educated and widely travelled. She was, too, an excellent conversationalist. And yet, all the time we were talking, I could not help thinking of Lola, and wondering why Duperrés wife should be in such evidence at Overstow Hall, indeed, apparently in authority there, also why Lola seemed to be so afraid of her.
Half an hour later I posted the receipt to Rayne, and later we all three lunched together in the restaurant. We took our coffee upstairs in the private room, when Duperré said, à propos of nothing, suddenly looking across at his wife:
Hargreave may be of great use to us, Hylda. Then, addressing me again, he said, lowering his voice and glancing at the door:
In becoming associated with The Golden Face, Hargreave, you are more fortunate than you may think. Hes a man who can, and who will, if he likes, help you enormously in all sorts of ways you will find that you are more to him than a mere chauffeur. In fact, we can both help you, that is, if you fall in with our plans. Our only stipulation will be that you do what we tell you without asking any questions. You understand eh?
I suppose, I said, smiling, that by The Golden Face you mean Mr. Rayne?
Yes. Hes called Golden Face by his intimates. I forgot you didnt know. He got the nick-name through going to the Bal des Quatre Arts, here in Paris, wearing a half-mask made of beaten gold.
By that time I had become convinced that both Rayne and Duperré were men with whom I should have to deal with the utmost circumspection.
The only person I had met since I had engaged myself to Rayne in whom I could, I felt, place implicit confidence, was Lola.
When we had finished our coffee, Duperré excused himself, saying that he had some letters to write, and suggested that his wife should accompany me for a taxi drive in the Bois. This struck us both as a pleasant manner in which to spend the afternoon, therefore Madame retired to her room, reappearing a few moments later wearing a smart cloak and a wonderful black hat adorned with three large handsome feathers.
She proved herself a very amusing companion as we drove out to Armenonville, where we sat out upon the lawn, she sipping her sirop while I smoked a cigarette. She knew Paris well, it seemed, and was communicative over everything except concerning Rudolph Rayne.
When I put some questions to her regarding my new employer, she simply replied:
We never discuss him, Mr. Hargreave. It is one of his rules that those who are his friends, as we are, preserve the strictest silence. What we discover from time to time we keep entirely to ourselves, and we even go to the length of disclaiming acquaintanceship with him when it becomes necessary. So it is best not to be inquisitive. If he discovers that you have been making inquiries he will be greatly annoyed.
We never discuss him, Mr. Hargreave. It is one of his rules that those who are his friends, as we are, preserve the strictest silence. What we discover from time to time we keep entirely to ourselves, and we even go to the length of disclaiming acquaintanceship with him when it becomes necessary. So it is best not to be inquisitive. If he discovers that you have been making inquiries he will be greatly annoyed.
I quite understand, Madame, I replied with a meaning smile. That she was closely connected with the deep-laid schemes of Rudolph Rayne was more than ever apparent. But why, I wondered, was Lola so palpably beneath her influence?
My companion was about thirty-eight, though she looked younger, with handsome, well-cut features, and possessing the chic of a woman who had traveled much and who knew how to wear her clothes. There was, however, nothing of the adventuress about her. On the contrary, she had the appearance of moving in a very select set. She was English without a doubt, but she spoke perfect French.
I mentioned Lola, but she said:
Remember what I have just told you about undue inquisitiveness, Mr. Hargreave! You will find out all you want to know in due course. So possess yourself in patience and act always with foresight as well as with discretion.
I chanced to raise my eyes at that moment, when I noticed that a well-dressed, black-mustached Frenchman, who wore white spats, while passing along the terrace of the fine al fresco restaurant had halted a second to peer into Madames face, no doubt struck by her handsome features. She noticed it also but turned her head, and spoke to me of something else. A woman knows instinctively when she is being admired.
The position in which I now found myself, employed by a man who was undoubtedly a crook of no mean order, caused me considerable trepidation. When I had assumed the responsibility of that innocent-looking suit-case I never dreamt that it contained Lady Norah Kendrews stolen jewels, as it did, otherwise I would certainly never have attempted to pass it through the Customs at Rouen. But why and how, I wondered, had Lolas suspicions been aroused? Why had she warned me?
Rayne had probably sent messengers with stolen property to France by that route before, knowing that, contrary to the shrewd examination at Calais, the officers of certain trading ships and the douaniers were on friendly terms.
When again I raised my eyes furtively to the Frenchman in the white spats I was relieved to find that he had disappeared. My fears that he might be an agent of the Sûreté were groundless. The afternoon was delightful as we sat beneath the trees, but Madame suddenly recollected an engagement she had with her dressmaker at five oclock, so we reëntered our taxi and drove back to the Porte Maillot and thence direct to the hotel.
We found the door of the sitting-room locked, but as Madame turned the handle Duperrés voice was heard inquiring who was there.
Open the door, Vincent, urged his wife.
All right! Wait a moment, was the reply.
We heard the quick rustling of paper, and after a lapse of perhaps a minute he unlocked the door for us to enter.
Well? Had a nice time eh? he asked, turning to me as he reclosed the door and again locked it.
I replied in the affirmative, noticing that on the table was something covered with a newspaper.
Ive been busy, he said with a grin, and lifting the paper disclosed a quantity of bracelets, rings, pendants and other ornaments from which the gems had been removed. During our absence he had been occupied in removing the stolen jewels from their settings.
Yes, I laughed. You seem to have been very busy, Vincent!
Beside the bent and broken articles of gold lay a little pile of glittering gems, none of them very large, but all of first quality.
Lady Norah wouldnt like to see her treasures in such a condition, would she? laughed Duperré. We shall get rid of them to old Heydenryck, who is arriving presently.
Who is he?
A Dutch dealer who lives here in Paris. Hes always open to buy good stuff, but he wont look at any stones that are set. Raynes idea was to sell them, just as they were, to a dealer named Steffensen, who buys stuff here and smuggles it over to New York and San Francisco, where it is not likely to be traced. But I find that Steffensen is away in America at the moment, so Ive approached the Dutchman. Heydenryck is a sly old dog. Unlike Steffensen, he buys unset stones because they are difficult to identify.
I bent and examined the glittering little pile of diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires which had been stolen from the hotel in London.
Look here, Hargreave, said Duperré. I want you to help us to get rid of this, and he pointed to the broken jewelry.
How? I asked dismayed, for I confess that I feared the discovery. To be thus intimately associated with a band of expert crooks was a new experience.
Quite easily, he replied. Ill show you. Then turning to his wife, he said: Just bring Lu Chang in, will you, Hylda?
Madame passed into the next room and returned with a small Pekinese in her arms.
Lu Chang is quite quiet and harmless, laughed Duperré as his wife handed the dog to me.
As my hands came in contact with the animals fur I realized that it was dead and stuffed!
Duperré laughed heartily as he watched my face. I confess that I was mystified.
He took the dog, which had probably been purchased from a naturalist only that day, and ripping open the pelt behind the forelegs he quickly drew out the stuffing. Then into the cavity he hurriedly thrust the broken rings and pendants.
I watched him with curiosity. It seemed such an unusual proceeding. But I recollected that I was dealing with strange associates people whom I afterwards found to be perhaps the most ingenious crooks in Europe.
Poor Lu Chang, exclaimed my old company commander with a laugh. If you drown him he wont feel it!
Duperré watched the expression of surprise upon my face as he packed the whole of the broken jewelry into the dog.
Now what I want you to do, Hargreave, he said, is to drown Lu Chang in the Seine. Lots of people in Paris, who are not lovers of dogs, are flinging them into the river because of the new excessive tax upon domestic pets. You will just toss Lu Chang over the Pont Neuf. The police cant interfere, even though they see you. You will only have put the dog out of the world rather than pay the double tax.
He watched my natural hesitation.
Isnt he a little dear! exclaimed Madame, stroking the dogs fur. Poor Lu Chang! He wont float with the gold inside him!
No, laughed Duperré. Hell go plumb to the bottom!
It was on the tip of my tongue to excuse myself, but I remembered that I was in the service of Rudolph Rayne, the country squire of Overstow, and paid handsomely. And, after all, it was no great risk to fling the stuffed dog into the river.
I am a lover of dogs, and had the animal been alive nothing would have induced me to carry out his suggestion.
But as it had been dead long ago, for I saw some signs of moth in the fur, and as I was in Paris at the bidding of my employer, I consented, and carrying the little Peke beneath my arm I walked along the Quai du Louvre to the old bridge which, in two parts, spans the river. Just before I gained the Rue Dauphine, on the other side, I paused and looked down into the water. An agent of police was regulating the traffic on my left, and he being in controversy with the driver of a motor-lorry, I took my opportunity and dropped the dog with its secret into the water.