Meet The Baron (11 page)

Lorna was . . . different.

The Fauntley household, he told himself, would remain as his background. Nothing had been put into words, but it was generally accepted that between Lorna and himself there was an understanding, and the belief satisfied Fauntley. Lorna was enigmatical, erratic, and, her father believed, possessed of some foolish introspection which prevented her from giving Mannering a straight answer, but as Mannering had no complaint Lord Fauntley let things slide. His own concern was the making of money and more money, the collecting of precious stones and yet more stones.

The illusion of wealth that Mannering had so carefully created was a powerful one. No one, not even Randall or Plender, suspected that the fantastic turf wins he had made were imaginary, while the affair of the Klobber diamond shares had convinced Plender that Mannering was using his brains to make money, instead of relying on the turn of a wheel or the form of a horse. Mannering laughed to himself when he remembered the Klobber sensation. Actually he had profited from those supposedly defunct diamond-mines to the tune of a few hundred pounds, but when he had passed on the hint - obtained through a careless word from Fauntley - to Plender it had done him more good than a substantial monetary profit. It had fostered the illusion of his wealth to such an extent that he almost believed in it himself.

He faced the prospect of the future with a coolness that sometimes made him laugh aloud. The rules were simple. He would take what he could, where he could, from anyone who would not suffer a great deal from the loss. The Dowager Countess of Kenton, who had outlived two husbands, was fabulously wealthy. The owner of the Kia bracelet could have bought gems ten times its value without batting an eye. Others who had contributed to his banking account were very wealthy themselves. No one suffered, except in pride of possessions, Mannering told himself time and time again, although with Bristow it was his personal pride.

In the first months of his career Mannering had made one or two mistakes that might easily have cost him his freedom, but his carefulness in the matter of his dress and voice had saved him. For one thing, when he had hired Charlie Dray to teach him the elements of safe-breaking he had not allowed for the possibility of Charlie being an expert pickpocket. Some stones of the Kia bracelet had been neatly pinched. So had Charlie, but fortunately the latter’s knowledge of his pupil’s appearance had been slight.

Against Charlie Dray Mannering bore a grudge. One day, he promised himself, Charlie would suffer a severe pain in the neck. To Levy Schmidt, on the other hand, Mannering was grateful.

It was inevitable that in his guise as Mr T. Baron Mannering should meet and talk with many strange people, most of whom were members of the profession in some way or other. To some he could talk in complete confidence; others created the impression that if they could get any information on which to turn King’s Evidence they would do so without the slightest qualms. Mannering was forced to go warily with those he talked to and dealt with, but as he never gave an address and rarely saw the men more than once or twice - with certain necessary exceptions in whom he believed he could place implicit trust - he did not worry.

It was late in July when he first heard the rumour of the Rosa pearls.

Some three years before the Rosa pearls had been stolen from their rightful owner in America, and since then there had been not the slightest clue to their whereabouts; Randenberg, the victim of the theft, had been amply covered by insurance, but he mourned the Rosa pearls as the prize piece in a collection that rivalled that of Fauntley in England. Mannering had known of this many months before he had thought of turning to cracksmanship for a livelihood, for the Randenbergs had spent two seasons in England, and he had met them several times.

It was a mere whisper of the pearls that came his way when he was trying to dispose of a small ring that he had stolen from an Essex household during a visit. So far as he knew the ring had not been missed. The fence with whom he dealt with very small stuff grinned when he saw the ring; it was higher quality than he usually handled.

“Reckon,” he said, paying out promptly, “you’ll be after the Rosas one o’ these days, son.”

“What’s them?” Mannering demanded harshly.

“’E don’t even know ‘em!” The fence leered, and then for a moment his face grew crafty. “But I reckon Sep Lee knows a lot, if you arsk me. ‘Im an’ ‘is’ pusiness’! Pah!”

Mannering, wearing a slouch cap and his inevitable mackintosh, affected to take no notice, but the germ of an idea was in his mind. The Rosa pearls would be worth an immense sum, even as illegal gems; the man he knew vaguely as Sep Lee might prove interesting. He made certain inquiries, and the more he learned the more he realised the possibility that the fence might be right.

One morning towards the end of that sweltering August Mannering went into the offices of the Severell Trust, a financial syndicate with fingers in most pies, and asked for Mr Septimus Lee. Mannering was recognised by the clerks who received him, and was treated with the respect demanded by a man of his reputed wealth and standing. It was not unusual for wealthy men to visit Septimus Lee, although no one apart from Lee himself and one other knew the purpose of those visits.

Lee was a Jew, a thin, scraggy little man, with a beak of a nose and dark, lank hair. His shrewd eyes peered up at Mannering as the latter sat down, adjusted his trousers fastidiously, and said: “You know me, Mr Lee?”

“Put, of course. Who vould not?” Lee’s smile was unctuous.

Mannering smiled to himself at the compliment, but outwardly ignored it.

“Have you any idea why I called on you?” he asked quietly.

“Vell” Lee shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands high. “How should I know, Mr Mannering? So many famous people come to see me, for so many reasons.”

Mannering smiled; lights were sparkling in his eyes.

“Mostly to borrow, don’t they?”

“Vell” - a smile flitted across the Jew’s face and the old eyes gleamed - “sometimes I can oplige vith a little temporary help, yeth? You are in need, Mr Mannering, of such - ”

Mannering shook his head decisively, and there was a subtle change in the expression in Lee’s eyes.

“No. I haven’t come to borrow, Mr Lee. I’ve come about some - rumours, shall we say?”

Mannering spoke casually, but there was a barb in the words. Lee knew it, and his eyes narrowed. His lined face was expressionless.

“Strange things rumours, yes?”

“So strange that usually it doesn’t pay to believe them,” said Mannering. “But this one was very intriguing. It concerned the Rosa pearls, Mr Lee.”

There was no mistaking Lee’s interest now, and there was a hint of alarm in his eyes. It went quickly, and he shrugged his shoulders.

“So - ”

“Now, the Rosa pearls,” went on Mannering casually, “were stolen from the Randenbergs, in New York, three years ago. I’ve heard a rumour - you won’t be interested in where it came from, Mr Lee - that they are now in London.”

“Ye-esss,” murmured Lee.

“Very beautiful things,” murmured Mannering. “The rose-tinted queen pearls in the centre and the famous Rosa graduation. Quite the most famous pearls in America, weren’t they?”

“Ye-esss,” murmured Lee again.

“And there is a certain collector,” said Mannering, with a widening smile, “who would be willing to pay good money for them; within reason, of course. Working on the hypothesis that the Rosa pearls were in the market, how much would you think they were worth, Mr Lee?”

The Jew was rubbing his thumb across the bridge of his nose, and the expression in his eyes was remarkably cunning.

“Vell,” he said smoothly, “vorking on that strange hypothesis, my dear Mr Mannering, I might say - twenty thousand pounds.”

Mannering’s lips twitched at the corners.

“And now carry the hypothesis a little further. Supposing they were available in London as stolen property, and not in the open market? How much then, Mr Lee?”

Septimus Lee spread his blue-veined hands across his desk, and peered into Mannering’s laughing eyes. He was on his guard, Mannering knew: their swords were crossed.

“Vell - should ve say fifteen thousand?”

“A little high,” said Mannering judicially. “If I - of course I’m no expert in pearls, Mr Lee - but if I were to estimate a figure for the Rosa pearls in those circumstances I shouldn’t go a pound higher than twelve thousand five hundred.”

“No?”

“Not a pound.”

Lee took his hands from his desk, and rubbed them together with a faint sliding noise. His eyes were half closed.

“Perhaps twelve thousand five hundred, Mr Mannering, and a percentage of commission for the middleman, eh?”

“Come,” said Mannering cheerfully, “I’m assuming that only two people would know anything about the sale - the two principals. Would that figure be - er - acceptable, do you think?”

For a moment there was no sound nor movement in the room. Then Lee bent forward, with a little exclamation.

“Just how much do you know, Mr Mannering?”

“Just as much as I seem to,” said Mannering. The smile was still on his lips, but it had gone from his eyes. “You have the Rosas, Mr Lee. No one besides yourself and one other knows they are in England.”

“Two others,” said Lee thoughtfully. “My colleague - and yourself”

Mannering nodded, and the laughter came back to his eyes; he had made his final thrust and scored well.

“Yes, of course. But I didn’t know until you confirmed it, Mr Lee. Shall I lay all my cards on the table?”

“It is an idea,” admitted Lee.

“Hm. Well, I was one of many who were prepared to purchase the Rosa pearls from the Randenbergs, and one of many who were disappointed when they were stolen. A friend of mine in America whispered - just whispered, Mr Lee - that sometimes you were in possession of gems which had - er - left the United States, and I put two and two together.”

“Because you were still interested in them?”

“Precisely.”

“Vell,” said the Jew slowly, “I vill not ask questions, Mr Mannering, although it would seem that you have strange friends. Just the one question I would ask. You are acquainted with the police?”

Mannering’s expression did not change.

“I am a collector of precious stones, Mr Lee.”

The Jew seemed to think for a moment. His eyes closed and his fingers intertwined slowly, tenuously. At last: “This twelve thousand five hundred pounds, Mr Mannering. The transaction would be cash, of course?”

“My cheque is as good as cash,” said Mannering.

“Ye-es. Of course. But in transactions of this kind”

“Mr Lee,” said Mannering gently, “I have every respect for you and your methods, but I would not bring twelve thousand pounds in cash into your office or your home for any purpose whatsoever. I heard a rumour that you have the pearls. Others might hear it too. My cheque against the Rosas.”

Again Lee seemed to lose himself in his thoughts, and there was silence for several minutes. He came out of his reverie, and nodded. Quick decisions, he knew, were essential.

“Shall we consider the matter settled?”

“Time and place?” asked Mannering.

“These offices, Mr Mannering, to-morrow, at twelve noon.”

“To-morrow is all right,” said Mannering, “but twelve is too late. Ten o’clock - ”

“Must it be so early?” Lee questioned.

“I shall be leaving London soon after eleven,” said Mannering. “If you care to leave it until next week - ”

Lee shook his head, as Mannering had expected. Lee was not a man to keep a deal of this nature hanging fire.

“Ten o’clock, then,” the Jew said.

“Excellent,” said Mannering.

A few minutes later he took his leave of the financier knowing that both of them were - so far - well satisfied with the interview, Mannering perhaps with more justification than the other.

Septimus Lee was a clever man, but there were things he did not know. He was unaware, for instance, that he was followed for the rest of the day by a man he would not have recognised even if he had seen him.

Mannering had little faith in disguises, but a beard was a simple arrangement, and he was not likely to be examined carefully while he affected it. His chief complaint was that it made his face hot and sticky, for the weather was still warm, but he bore the discomfort philosophically.

Septimus Lee went from the offices of the Severell Trust, in the Strand, to a safe deposit in Southampton Row. He travelled in a Daimler saloon that purred through the evening traffic, while Mannering, bearded and in a Frazer Nash, kept it in sight. Just for a moment, when the little Jew stepped out of the Daimler outside the deposit, Mannering thought he had slipped up. Then he smiled. Septimus Lee was too careful to hold the deposit key under his own name.

But it was clever, Mannering admitted. The only likeness between the Jew who had stepped into the Daimler and the Jew who had stepped out of it was in stature. The first man had been old and wrinkled, while the second appeared to be young and smooth-faced. It was a remarkable transformation, and had he not actually followed the Daimler Mannering would never have recognised Lee in his disguise.

After twenty minutes Lee reappeared, and the Daimler moved off. In the brief interval Mannering had hurried to a near-by garage and complained that his Frazer Nash was going badly, leaving the two-seater for repair while hiring a Vauxhall Six. After leaving the garage at the wheel of the larger car Mannering also changed his beard for a heavy moustache typical of the Victorian era. No matter how keen Septimus Lee’s eyes were he could not have suspected the identity of the driver of the Vauxhall which left the kerb a moment after the Daimler.

The rest of the chase was uneventful. Septimus Lee owned a small house standing in its own grounds on the edge of Streatham Common. Mannering watched the chauffeur garage the Daimler and smiled to himself when he saw the stooping figure of the real Septimus Lee approach the front door of the house. A clever old scoundrel was Septimus Lee.

Mannering drove back to town thoughtfully. It was just possible, of course, that Lee had not collected the Rosa pearls from the safe deposit, but it was reasonable to assume that he had, and that for the one night they would be at his Streatham house. That, at all events, was what Mannering had tried to ensure by insisting on the early hour for the deal. If he had agreed to the midday appointment Lee could have got the Rosas in the morning.