Cost Price (7 page)

“And you said you weren’t on the job?”

“I don’t think I did,” said I. “Anyway, I’ve finished now. Twenty-one, twenty-two. That’s right. Shut that case, Bell, and take it back to my room.”

“Very good, sir.”

“What have you finished?” said Diana.

“The job,” said I. “And now I’m going to bed.”

The lady looked at Mansel.

“Captain Mansel, what are you doing?”

“Nothing at the moment,” said Mansel; “but I’m just going to put out this light. John and Palin, we’ll have to let the thing go. Have you a torch, Diana? Otherwise, William will see you back to your room.”

Diana was speaking slowly.

“It must be something that you don’t want me to know.”

“To be frank, we’ve been to some trouble to keep it quiet.”

“But why?”

“So many questions,” sighed Mansel. “Now may I ask you one?”

“Of course,” says the girl, staring.

“How do you come to be here…in the ancient part of the castle…between four and five in the morning, when most people are abed?”

“I – I heard a sound,” said Diana. “And came to see what it was.”

The silence which followed this statement was painful, indeed, for the rush of the water without declared so very clearly that only a monstrous noise could have risen above its din.

Then Mansel put out his light, and I drew my torch. As I threw its beam at her feet—

“Come, my lady,” I said; “I’ll see you back to your room.”

Since that of my torch was now the only light, the girl had to follow the beam or else be left in the dark; and two minutes later we reached the door of her room.

“What do you think of me, Richard?”

“I don’t know what to think. I know that you lied when you said that you’d heard a sound.”

“Then why d’you think I came down?”

“I suppose,” I said, “because Friar told you to.”

“I don’t take orders from Friar.”

“Why did you come down?”

“Because Friar told me that you were up to something – and something big. I’ve come down every night between one and three: but last night I forgot to set my alarm.”

“What did it matter to you?”

“Women are curious, Richard – especially about men. You see, Friar said that you and Captain Mansel were not what you seemed to be. He said you were really two very efficient crooks.”

“Did you believe that?”

“No. And I told him so. ‘Of course you don’t believe it,’ he said. ‘Who ever would? That’s why they’ve had such a run. But it happens to be a fact. And what is more, you can prove it, if you like to keep them in view.’ Well, I said that that was silly. How on earth could I keep observation on people like you? ‘Visit the Ferrers,’ he said, ‘and don’t sleep too sound while you’re there.’ He knew I knew Olivia: I’d told him I’d rung her up, to find that she was away. ‘They’re on their way back,’ he said, ‘and Mansel and Chandos will visit them, sure as a gun. I mean, that’s why they’re at Salzburg.’ Well, I honestly thought it was tripe: I simply couldn’t believe that he wasn’t pulling my leg. And then it began to happen, just as he’d said. The Ferrers arrived the next day, on their way to Hohenems: and you turned up again and were invited to stay. When I was invited, too – well, nobody who was normal would have spent the whole night in their room.”

“I agree,” I said. “Placed as you were, told what you had been told, I should have done the same. And now that you’ve proved him right, you’re going to let him know?”

Diana’s eyes widened.

“If and when I found he was right, I promised to send him a. wire. We agreed the wording, which was
I apologize
.”

I nodded.

“That’s only fair,” I said. “You wouldn’t believe what he said, and you told him so.”

“I still don’t believe you’re a crook. Besides, John Ferrers was with you; so you weren’t robbing his house.”

“No, we’re not crooks,” I said. “In fact, we’ve done what we have at John’s request. But I’d rather Friar didn’t know that we’d done it just yet. So will you hold up that wire? That’s all he wanted, you know. That’s why he told you the tale. He knew we were going to work, and he very much wanted to know when that work was done. And then he fell in with you… It was a long shot, of course; but long shots sometimes come off.”

Diana’s eyes were burning.

“You mean to say he’s used me.”

“That was the general idea: but if you hold up that wire, it won’t come off. He is a crook, you know. And he’d very much like to have done what we have done tonight: but without John Ferrers’ knowledge.”

“My God,” said Diana, quietly. And then, again, “My God.”

“Don’t take it to heart,” I said. “No harm has been done.”

“And there you’re wrong,” snapped Diana. “A rotten blackguard has made a fool of me. Worse. I played into his hands; and, but for you, he’d have won his beastly game.”

I fingered my chin.

“Would you like to get back?” I said.

“Just you try me,” said Diana, speaking between her teeth.

“Perhaps we will,” I said. “Meanwhile, if you’d hold up that wire–”

“Are you being funny?” said Diana.

“Not on your life,” said I. “I’d very much like him to have it. But not just yet.”

Three hours and a half had gone by, and Mansel was up and dressed and was smoking a pipe in my bedroom, while I was brushing my hair.

We had had two hours’ sleep and could have done with eight: but appearances had to be saved.

“I think you’re right,” said Mansel: “they’ll have to go into the car. That secret locker has never yet been found. We can’t take them out that way, for the risk is too great. But until we take them out, I think they must lie in the Rolls.”

“Can we get them all in?” I said.

“Oh, yes. They don’t take up much room. But you must see them, William, for they are beyond all price. The size and glory of the stones, and the fabulous workmanship… Each one is worth a fortune – intrinsically. When you add to them their history, imagination boggles at what the world will say.”

I laughed, and picked up a tie.

“I’ll see them in England,” I said. “I assume we transfer them tonight.”

“This morning,” said Mansel. “A suitcase goes into the car, and we go for a run. About eleven, I think. We lunch abroad and get back in time for tea.”

“You know best,” said I; “but why not in time for lunch?”

“
Suggestio falsi
, William. The transfer will take half an hour; but where we lay up our treasure is going to be our affair. Not even the Ferrers will know. John is content, and Olivia is greatly relieved. As nobody knows of the locker, Palin and they will assume that we’ve either buried the gems or shoved them into some Bank.”

“Very good,” said I. “And what about the suitcase? Supposing a servant sees it go into the car…”

“It’s Palin’s suitcase, and Carson will put it in. Palin has need of some clothes which he left at the inn. And as we shall go by that way, we have offered to bring them along. And now about Diana Revoke.”

I think,” I said, “I
think
she’s told me the truth. If she hasn’t, she’s a beautiful liar. But I’m not entirely sure of that baby stare.”

“If she is honest,” said Mansel, “provided she’s willing to play, I think we may very well use her to string Friar along.”

“I hinted at that, and she seemed to jump at the chance.” I picked up a coat. “But she mustn’t go too far: I mean double-crossing Friar is not a game for a girl.”

“She mustn’t do it in person. I had a letter in mind. And now let’s go down to breakfast – and hope that the Boche doesn’t come till we’re out of the way.”

Though I think our night’s work must have been in everyone’s mind, it was not referred to at table by look or word. For all that, Diana was thoughtful; and when Mansel announced that, if we might be excused, he and I would drive over to Villach, I saw a look of relief come into Olivia’s face.

This was natural enough. So long as no man suspected that treasure was lying within her husband’s gates, its existence could be ignored; but once the secret was out, she could not put out of her mind the shocking scene she had witnessed five years before. All for the sake of those gems, she and John and Palin had been condemned to death – and had seen the sentence fulfilled on those that issued it. And now other rogues had arisen, determined to have their way. One man was dead already, and the Boche was waiting to pounce.

“Villach,” said Palin. “That means that you’ll pass my abode. If I were to give you a suitcase, would you be so very good as to get me some clothes? I’ve a very elegant suit in gorilla grey, with a flame-coloured overcheck… Then I’m running short of shirts and other accessories. If I had a word with Carson, I think he could make his selection, before you had finished your beer.”

“With pleasure,” said Mansel: “but give us a note to your landlord, to warrant the rape.”

“It shall be done,” said Palin. “What time shall you start?”

“We thought about eleven,” said Mansel. He returned to Olivia. “May we take some sandwiches with us? I think we’ll be back for tea.”

“Of course,” said Olivia, smiling. “Luncheon for four?”

“If you please, my dear.”

So everything was arranged.

Sharp at eleven o’clock, the Rolls stole out of the coachhouse and up to the castle’s door, and two minutes later we glided over the drawbridge and on to the road of approach. This was, as I have said, some two miles long, and so we had four or five minutes in which to run into the Boche: but that ill luck we were spared and, in fact, we turned into the highway without having seen a soul.

Mansel put down his foot…

Two hours later, perhaps, some thirty miles from Villach, we left the road for a track which ran into a wood.

We did not know the place, but it seemed retired, and we had chosen a time when husbandmen would be eating their midday meal. Still, precautions had to be taken; and Carson and Bell played sentry, while Mansel and I bestowed the precious stones.

Where the locker was, I shall not reveal: but it was well contrived and cleverly hidden away. Had the coachwork of the car been measured, it would, no doubt, have been found: but even the eyes of those who are trained to observe had never suspected its being for several years.

Each of the jewels was wrapped in a fragment of cotton wool. (As I have said, when I had handled them last, each had lain in its jewel-case – a little, old, padded bag: but these had been discarded, for fear of the virulent poison with which they had been in touch.) There was, therefore, no packing to be done, for the wool was padding enough against any vibration or shock. For all that, we lined the locker with layers of more cotton wool, for its burden had to lie snug and must on no account shift, whatever movement the car might happen to make.

I handed the gems to Mansel, who laid them up, and I told them as I did so and found the tale correct.

One hundred and twenty-seven sculptured jewels…

When Mansel received the last one, he loosed its elastic band and, carefully parting the wool, picked out the precious stone and set it in the palm of my hand.

“Look at that, William,” he said.

The jewel was a monstrous ruby.

I never knew that rubies could be carved; but there, before my eyes, was the head of a laughing Bacchante, all done in pigeon’s blood. Had it been wrought in marble, it would have filled the eye, so exquisite was the detail, so vivid the air of abandon, so rare were the parted lips and the tilt of the chin: but this was made of a ruby, fit for an emperor’s crown.

I gazed upon it in silence.

“There’s no deception,” said Mansel. “That is a Burmese ruby – the finest I ever saw.”

“My God,” I said, weakly. And then, “Are they all like that?”

“All,” said Mansel. “The Pope was a connoisseur.”

We put in still more padding – wool and scarves and stockings, until the locker was tight: then Mansel replaced the partition and screwed it home. The screwheads were countersunk, and when they had been re-covered, I do not think that a coach-builder would have looked twice at the panel which hid the recess. This being so, we were, perhaps, foolish not to have driven for the Channel as fast as we could – indeed, the idea was tempting beyond belief: but it must be remembered that, if the risk was slight, the stake was beyond calculation, it was so high. And if the car had been held and the gems had been found, neither Mansel nor I would have been the same men again.

Then we called our sentinels in and we all of us ate our lunch, after which we drove to Villach and had a word with an inn-keeper whom we knew. Then we made for Palin’s inn, to pick up his clothes, and just before five o’clock, we were back at Hohenems.

As we slid into the courtyard—

“End of Act One,” said Mansel. “I wonder how many there’ll be.”

Here, perhaps, I should say that Carson always slept in the harness room. This opened into the coach-house in which the Rolls was lodged. Such procedure was normal, when Mansel was ‘on the job’. For the Rolls was our magic carpet. More often than I can remember, if Carson or Bell was absent, Mansel or I have slept in the car ourselves.

The Ferrers had nothing to report, and, taking tea on the terrace, surveying as gentle a prospect as ever I saw, I found it hard to believe that Violence, Battle and Murder were, so to speak, in the wings. The valley was floored with meadows, through which a lively stream was making its wanton way: its sides were all of woodland, close and deep and reflecting each whim of the foothills on which it grew. Cows and sheep were making the most of this pleasance, and a colt, shut into a paddock, was standing beside its dam. And the lazy, afternoon sunshine was arraying the scene with splendour, gilding the green of the foliage, printing the shadow of substance upon the sward and turning the water into a ribbon of silver, so that its flash betrayed the course of the torrent after the law of Distance had ruled it out of our sight.

Then the butler appeared upon the terrace, to say that the German had come.

“See him with Palin,” said Mansel; “William and I are not coming on in this scene.”

But, while Ferrers and Palin made for the gallery, Mansel and I passed upstairs and so to the head of the steps down which Diana had come some thirteen hours before.