Chapter TWENTY-TWO: “remember the Name!”

I acted as she suggested.

From my writing-table I took out my pass-book which had only been sent by the bank the day before. And there, to my surprise, I saw that she was correct.

On the second of the month, two days before, my account had been credited with eight thousand three hundred and forty pounds! On my table there lay a letter from the bank which had only arrived on the previous morning, and which I had not opened, so preoccupied had I been. I tore it open, and found the usual formal notice that the check in question had been received from a mysterious Mr. Charles Davis.

“Well!” laughed the stunted little woman, “am I not correct?”

I nodded. What could I say? Evidently I was actually in association with that desperate gang of bandits, and from them derived a substantial income. The thought held me appalled. I, a trusted servant of the Foreign Office, and son of one of the best known parliamentarians in the kingdom, a member of a gang of jewel-thieves!

I saw she was much puzzled at my attitude; for, of course, she had no knowledge that I had been at last extricated from that long, trance-like stupor in which I had existed ever since that terrible night. How could she know that, at length, I had been rescued from that precarious state of a period concerning which I had no recollection of the foolish actions I might have committed, perchance. Little could she imagine that I had been released from the obscurity of memory of the two years that I had been within the grip of the low, beetle-browed man whom I so well remembered--the man they called His Excellency who, according to Illona’s statement, had shot dead the jeweler’s manager.

“You surely cannot now deny the truth, Lionel!” said the woman somewhat severely. “It is really amusing that you should deny all knowledge of association with us. You must remember your own little escapade--how cleverly you pinched Lady Rathgormly’s famous twenty-thousand-pound rope of pearls, as she came out of the Garrick Theatre.”

“Lady Rathgormly’s pearls!” I echoed. “What do you mean, Illona? Are you mad?” I cried. “Whatever I may be, I’m no thief.”

A queer, sarcastic laugh escaped the woman’s lips. It irritated me so much that I could have forcibly ejected her from my room.

“Most excellent acting, Lionel dear. But with me it really won’t wash!”

“I swear I have no knowledge of any woman’s pearls!” I cried. “I’m not a thief.”

“Then shall I give you proof of it?” she asked in a hard voice. “Since you deny everything, you must be made to produce the evidence of your guilt yourself.”

Then, crossing to the opposite wall, which was faced with books arranged on shelves to the height of seven feet from the floor, she ran her eye along the many volumes until she came upon an old brown leather-backed and frayed one--an eighteenth-century copy of Voltaire in French, as its faded gilding denoted.

“Will you please take that out?” Illona commanded, placing her finger upon it.

I obeyed wonderingly. Of late I had read hardly anything, and of the several hundred books I possessed--perhaps indeed a thousand volumes--I had for years taken no heed of them.

I took it out--a stout little volume in an old calf binding--and held it in my hand.

“Open it,” she ordered. And I did so. There were fifty or so old pages, stained yellow by damp and age, but beyond was a cavity. The remainder of the pages of the book had been securely stuck together each to the next, hardened, and then the whole centre had been cut out neatly.

My eyes fell on a packet in white paper, secured by a piece of thin blue string.

“Open it!” she demanded.

Utterly astounded, I moved to the table, pulled at the string hard, and next moment a magnificent rope of pearls fell into my hands!

“There!” she laughed. “You still have her ladyship’s pearls intact in your possession, though the police of Europe have been hunting for them. But His Excellency knows they are safe enough in your custody, for you have never been and never will be suspected--unless you are given away by your enemies,” she added meaningly.

“My enemies? You mean Lisely?” I remarked.

“And Owen,” she added. “Blind Roddy is not your friend, even if you think he is. As I warned you, beware of him. He intends evil against you.”

“But he has fled,” I remarked.

“I know,” she said. “He was with Tuggy when he was shot.”

“But why does Owen hate me so intensely?” I asked her.

“Because of Lisely. It was she who saved your eyesight--she who defended you against them all. Again, she chose you as bearer of the Double Nought to him in London--a beautiful piece of pierced aquamarine, which in the fifteenth century adorned the neck of the Queen of Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary, and which His Excellency annexed three years ago from the Art History Museum in Vienna.”

“Then the Double Nought has some serious significance?” I remarked, eager for information.

“As you well know, it is of very great and serious meaning among us,” she replied. “Into whose hands it is given, the command of His Excellency must be obeyed without question. You, Owen’s rival in Lisely’s affections, brought it to him from Rome. And since that he has vowed vengeance upon you.”

I again took up the stolen pearls. The rope was certainly a glorious one, graduated to a splendid diamond, emerald, and platinum clasp, and a delicate safety-chain, which was broken. Each pearl shone with a brilliant lustre and iridescence in the daylight, so different from the white, silvery-looking imitations so commonly worn. On each pearl was that wonderful sheen which can be very closely imitated, but can be detected even by the non-expert eye.

I had never held such a magnificent string of pearls in my hands before. I ran them through my fingers and examined them, afterwards placing them upon the polished table.

“I am no thief, Illona,” I said quietly. “I shall return them to their owner anonymously.”

“You’d better not,” she cried.

“Why? It is surely the easiest way out of the difficulty.”

“But what would His Excellency say? All our spoils belong to him. You are only keeping them in safe custody, until they can be split up, and distributed in New York, Paris, Brussels, and Buenos Aires,” she remarked. “No pearls pass from us in the form of the string, as they come to us. Fresh strings are often made by old Hartley, who lives out at Streatham Common, out of pearls from a dozen other lots of various sources. Fresh clasps are put on, and their owners could never recognize them again. As you know, there are dozens of such strings which have come through our hands, and are now displayed in the windows of smart jewelers in Paris and New York.”

“But I can’t keep it there!” I cried, again handling the beautiful rope.

“You must. You surely don’t want to risk His Excellency’s displeasure,” she said. “You have enough enemies already.”

“Suppose they were traced to me?” I said.

“Suppose pigs could fly,” laughed Illona carelessly, “how long would a porker take to cross the Atlantic? No, my dear Lionel,” she went on affably, “you must keep them as they are till His Excellency wants to sell them. Then you will get your share--a decent one, considering it was you who pinched them. The good lady is a friend of yours and you were one of the theatre party. Dotty Lewis taught you the delicate trick how to touch pearls.”

I stood staggered.

“When will His Excellency relieve me of them?” I asked at last.

“Any day now. They were mentioned at the meeting last Friday, and so were the Edendon sparklets. They’re going over to Antwerp next week packed in Turkish delight, to be re-cut. Balling’s kid is taking them over. He loves Turkish delight on the journey, and the Custom House noseys never dream that there’s anything wrong with the little round box he holds in his chubby hand. And if they did examine the stuff, they’d never believe that in each square of the sticky sweetmeat there reposed a diamond or two.”

“What game has Lisely been playing in Rome?” I asked suddenly.

“Oh, a little fifteen-thousand-pound deal,” laughed this queer little woman. “The wife of the French Ambassador in Rome firmly believes her rubies to be secure in their case in the safe in her room. But when she comes to wear them next, she’ll find that they have been transformed into bits of red glass! Ah, my dear Lionel, from us no jewels are safe. We are too wide-spread, and are invincible, so long as we do not quarrel among ourselves.”

That the spoils they gained were of enormous value I had seen, indeed, with my own eyes. How I had received instruction from an expert thief, and emulated his practices, was the most appalling of thoughts.

From Illona--whoever she might be; my lawful wife or otherwise--I had learned more in one half hour than I had in all the weeks of my consciousness. What she had revealed to me gave a clue to many things.

“You have said that in order to come here to me you have run serious risks,” I remarked presently. “How?”

“They wish to prevent us meeting because they are afraid I may tell you certain things which may give you a whiphand over them. That is why I have all along feared that some plot was afoot, led by the man who so cleverly pretends blindness--the man to whom you carried the Double Nought.”

“I really don’t understand,” I declared, honestly puzzled. All was so amazing, so dramatic, and so tragic, now that I found myself--the son of an ancient and honorable family serving His Majesty’s Foreign Office--tricked into acting as an expert jewel-thief.

As I looked again into the woman’s painted face, I felt intense repulsion. Surely she could not actually bear my name. What would the dear old governor or my friends say?

At that second Teddy, ever merry and buoyant, burst into the room, saying:

“Look here, old chap, what about a spot of lunch?”

Next second, realizing that I had a visitor, he exclaimed: “Awfully sorry! Do forgive me.” And, turning, he left, closing the door after him.

“Who’s that fellow?” asked Illona in quick suspicion.

“Oh, only a good pal of mine--Teddy Day. He’s a bit of an ass, perhaps, but quite all right.”

“I don’t appreciate such interruptions, Lionel,” she said very coldly.

“Neither do I,” I agreed, suddenly aware that the stolen pearls were lying openly upon the table. Bruce had no doubt let him in, and he had rushed past him into my room, as was his habit. If he had noticed the pearls, what then?

From everybody I had withheld the existence of that mysterious, deformed woman who called me her husband, and I had no great desire to reveal the fact to even my most intimate friend.

My greatest concern at the moment was how to rid myself of the stolen pearls. I repeated my intention to return them anonymously to the owner, but Illona instantly waxed furious, warning me of His Excellency’s wrath if I dared to do so.

“I will have nothing to do with the affair!” I cried angrily.

“That’s really amusing!” she laughed. “Don’t forget that it was you who pinched them--just as you did that woman Carslake’s emeralds at Biarritz. My dear Lionel, you are getting very squeamish nowadays. Why?”

“Because, whatever I may have done in the past--according to your statements--I’m leading an honest life in future.”

“And accepting the checks of Mr. Charles Davis,” she said, with biting sarcasm.

“Not knowingly,” I declared. “I shall return the money,” I added, in ignorance, however, of the person to whom I should send it.

“And quarrel openly with His Excellency!” she cried. “My dear Lionel, that would be utter madness. No! Do as I suggest. Lie low and remain inactive. I have your interests at heart, as you surely know! Have I not warned you of your enemies, and I will stick by you, as you stuck by me in the Tyrell affair. In that we both narrowly escaped going for a stretch.”

“The Tyrell affair! What was that?”

“Oh, Lionel, you are getting on my nerves with all this affected ignorance of yours. Surely you know how Tuggy climbed up to the window of that old ivy-covered country house of the Tyrell’s, near Worcester--an easy job. He passed me the contents of the woman’s jewel-case, while the party were feeding below, and you and I escaped in a motor car. A constable of the Bath police stopped us, but you biffed him one in the face and laid him out. Then we went on to Gloucester, where we abandoned the car and returned to Paddington by train as two perfectly respectable citizens. But for your prompt action we should now each be doing three years or so. By Jove! you hit that copper a knock-out blow!” she added triumphantly.

What she had disclosed was certainly staggering. Surely I could not be the lawful husband of such an object as she was!

At that moment the telephone bell rang and I was compelled to attend to it.

The message was from the Foreign Office. Lord Oxenwood, His Majesty’s Foreign Minister, had left to take the cure at Evian-les-Bains, the quiet little watering-place on the Lake of Geneva, and urgent dispatches would have to be sent to him. Would I call for them on the morning of the day after to-morrow, and leave London by the eleven o’clock boat-train for Paris?

The request was a command; so, with a sigh, I replied in the affirmative. Then I rang up the Sleeping Car Company’s office in Pall Mall, and reserved a compartment on the Orient Express from Calais to Lausanne.

“So you have to be off again, dear,” the woman remarked, overhearing the conversation. “Strange that you are going to Lausanne. Of course, you will cross the lake from there direct to Evian.”

“It is the quickest way,” I remarked, for few men perhaps had a wider knowledge of Continental travel than I had.

“You will probably call upon His Excellency, eh?” she said. “He will be extremely pleased if you do, and further, it will place you in his good books. Though the police of Europe are ever in active search of him, he lives just now in Lausanne--one of the most cosmopolitan and most pleasant towns in Europe.” And she gave me an address in the Avenue de la Gare, a handsome, tree-lined thoroughfare which I knew quite well.

“And under what name is he known there?” I asked with considerable interest; for it seemed that the wide-spread gang of criminals was controlled from Switzerland.

“It is a secret to all but us. As one of us I can tell you, if you really don’t know it already. Felix Zuroff is now Nicholas Sarasti. Remember the name, and keep it strictly confidential. His Excellency never forgives those who betray a secret.”

“I shall certainly not forget it,” I replied. “Nicholas Sarasti.”