Читать книгу The Edge of the Sword - Fred M. White - Страница 6

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BEYOND doubt Lionel Harvey was holding in his hand the Manningtree emeralds. He was no particular judge of such things, but even his untrained eye could see no flaw in these shimmering, shining stones. But why had they been sent to him like this? Why had the thief made so strong an appeal to him to keep silence? These jewels had been offered to him as a bribe.

Lionel sat himself down to think it all out. The motive by which the thief had been inspired became clear presently. Evidently more than one person had been reading the serial story in the Daily Record, evidently more than one person had appreciated the similarity between the story and the course of current events taking place at Manningtree Hall.

"I have succeeded in fairly frightening my prey," Lionel told himself. "It must have been the alteration in yesterday's instalment of the story that did it. Upon my word, I have a very great mind to go down to Manningtree to-morrow and investigate for myself. As I said before, what a story this would make! And yet one reads more extraordinary stories every day in the papers."

There was nothing more to be done for the present, and Lionel decided to sleep on it. When he came down to breakfast the following morning he found that a letter from the editor of the Daily Record awaited him. Would he go round to the office in the course of the afternoon? The request somewhat interfered with the plan that Harvey had laid out for himself, but Hilton was a power whom it was impossible to disregard. And Harvey was a journalist as well as an author of fiction. For once Hilton had abandoned his studiously calm manner. He seemed quite excited about something.

"Sorry to worry you," he said, "but there's a little thing that needs explaining. The matter was pointed out to me late last night. Do you know anything of Lord Manningtree?"

Lionel started and hesitated. There was no reason why he should tell Hilton anything.

"Only by name," he said. "He was made a peer the other day to the general surprise of most people, who regarded him as a mere city man who had made a large fortune in mines, or something of that kind."

"We know all that," Hilton said, impatiently. "I mean as to the inner life of the man. Do you happen to know his niece personally or his secretary?"

There was no fencing the question any longer. Hilton's eyes fairly burnt behind his gold-rimmed pince-nez. Nothing could be gained by concealment.

"I was not aware that he had a niece," Lionel replied. "The secretary I knew because I was at school with him, and afterwards we were together in the same bank. But I only knew the day before yesterday that Richard Armstrong was Lord Manningtree's secretary."

"Very strange," Hilton murmured. "But perhaps I had better tell you what I am driving at. Your story in our paper exactly forecasted the tragedy at Manningtree. It reads as if you know all the parties, and were in a position to say what was going to happen. There is the body in the library before the safe; there is the hint that the secretary could tell a story if he liked; there is the missing key of the safe, a safe which by jove! was supposed to contain emeralds. And what happens in your story in to-day's issue? Why, the safe is opened and the emeralds are gone! I took the trouble to look up the page of 'copy' that you altered yesterday, and I find that you have fitted the whole thing closer and closer into the crime. And yet you stand there and tell me that you know nothing whatever about Lord Manningtree!"

Hilton's voice had grown cold and suspicious. Lionel began to see that it would be necessary for him to speak. He fenced up to the point by asking if Hilton regarded him as in any way responsible for the matter under discussion.

"Well, not directly," the editor said. "But you can hardly expect me to believe that there is nothing more or less than coincidence in this. And, besides, you can help the paper; which brings me to my point. This crime has become a popular sensation. It has caught on with the British public. They are thirsty for any details, and Lord Manningtree is not in a position as yet to throw any light on the matter. He was brought up last night by road, on a specially quiet car, so that his case could be properly gone into in a hospital—X-rays, and all that kind of thing, such apparatus as could not be taken into the country. I have two special men down in Essex getting all the news they can. I've just had a wire to say that the key of the safe has been found, and that the safe has been opened in the presence of his lordship's lawyer. Now, I wonder if you can guess what was discovered inside the safe?"

"Probably nothing," Lionel smiled. "You are going to tell me that the emeralds are gone."

"Well, it does not require any vast amount of cleverness to guess that," Hilton went on. "The emeralds have vanished—just the same as they vanish in your story. Suspicion at once attaches to the people who are most nearly connected with his lordship's household. I am speaking, of course, of the niece or the secretary. On the whole, it is the most extraordinary complication that I ever came in contact with, and, unless I am greatly mistaken, you are in a position to solve the thing right away. Is not that so?"

"Well, it may be," Harvey admitted, guardedly. "But I tell you frankly that I am not going to stand here and be bullied into a confession that I have overstepped the bounds of fiction and given you a story that is taken from real life. That kind of thing is very dangerous, as I knew to my cost. Not so very long ago, I used some singular incidents that were told me by a friend, and found out afterwards that I had given great pain to some perfectly innocent people, who were suffering also from pecuniary loss owing to my unfortunate use of the facts. The whole thing proved somewhat expensive in the long run, and cost me a great deal more money than I could well afford. I am not very likely——"

"Why are you wandering from the point like this?" the editor asked. "Like yourself, I always have the fear of a libel action in my eyes; and that is the reason, or, at least, one of the reasons, why I sent for you this morning. If you mean to tell me that your story which is now running in our paper is nothing more than a mere coincidence, why, in that case——"

"I said nothing of the kind," Harvey interrupted. "What I said was that the coincidence followed the story, and when you come to talk of coincidences, in which you don't seem to believe, though you are a newspaper editor, allow me to tell you of one that happened to me not long ago. I had started a series of short stories, and sent in the first two for the inspection of the magazine editor, when, to my astonishment, I received them back with a curt intimation the effect that they had been borrowed, both of them, to put it mildly, from stories published only a few months before by one of our most prominent novelists. I give you my word of honour that I did not know of the existence of any stories similar to mine, and yet the plots in both instances were absolutely the same. I did not trouble my editor again; in fact, to this very day there is a coolness between us, and I don't suppose he will ever believe in the unfortunate coincidence. And now comes the strange part of my narrative. I destroyed those two stories, but I did not abandon my main idea, so, therefore, I wrote the whole series afresh and sent them to another editor, by whom they were promptly accepted. When the first story came to be published it appeared exactly the same month as a precisely similar narrative by another novelist, and in both instances the plot of the story turned on the poisoning or drugging of a horse that was a strong favourite for the Derby. Now, what do you think of that? But I have not told you everything yet. The next story of the series duly appeared, and related to the robbery of the gold plate at Windsor Castle. You may believe me or not, but the other novelist also in his series had a yarn all about the robbery of the gold plate at Windsor Castle."

"Wonderful," the editor said, drily. "But all this is not very interesting to me just now, though you seem to have proved your point pretty conclusively. Suppose we go back again to the subject which we started on. I was saying just now that the emeralds belonging to Lord Manningtree vanished. Suspicion at once attached to the niece or the secretary—the same as in your story. And you tell me that Lord Manningtree's secretary is an old friend of yours. I believe that you could tell me a great deal more, and I want you to do so. It would be a great scoop for the paper if we could solve the mystery. That's why I asked you to come and see me. If your story is nothing more than an amazing coincidence——"

"It isn't," Lionel hastened to say. "My dear fellow, it is not so amazing, after all."

"Oh, isn't it? Well, I beg to differ. And when I come to think of it a woman in Essex wrote and asked me for your address. You remember my telling you about it. I shouldn't be surprised to find that that woman was on the same track as myself. Keep on it, Harvey, forecast a little further. Tell us where the missing jewels are?"

"Certainly I will," Lionel said, on the spur of the moment. "They are at present locked up in a cupboard in my bedroom. They came into my hands last night."

It was one of the editor's boasts that nothing ever astonished him. He lost his record now. He stared at Lionel in blank amazement.

"You had better tell me the whole story," he panted. "My word! what a 'special' this will make! Let us have it from the beginning."

Lionel told his story word for word; he concealed nothing. He knew that he would have to disclose the facts to somebody sooner or later. And he did not want his editor to spoil everything by a premature disclosure of a portion of the facts. And when the plain unvarnished truth came to be told, Hilton could quite see that the coincidence played the greater part in the mystery. Besides, Hilton was on his honour now.

"I never heard anything like this in my life," he said. "We can't spoil the story by giving it to the public in small doses. We'll have the thing solved first. And what do you propose to do with those emeralds?"

"Upon my word, I don't know what to do with them," Lionel admitted. "You see, I have not the slightest evidence to prove that they belong to Lord Manningtree at all. My story may have played on the tender conscience of another set of people altogether. Of course, we know where those gems came from, but that is not evidence. I thought of handing the things over to the police. I can't keep them, of course."

"Of course not," Hilton agreed. "But I would not go to the police yet. As a proof of your bona fides you have confided your story to me, you have handed over the emeralds to be locked in the office safe for the present. What do you say to that?"

Lionel could see no objection whatever. So far as he was concerned he did not want the police in this business. And by handing over the emeralds he saved himself from what might sooner or later prove to be an awkward situation.

"Very well," he said. "I'll bring the stones here later on, say about half-past nine to-night. Do you want to employ me as your special commissioner in the matter?"

That was exactly what Hilton wanted, as he proceeded to explain to Lionel. He must put everything else aside for the moment. Feeling a little easier in his mind, Harvey returned to the office of the Daily Record later in the evening and passed over the gems to Hilton. The editor desired to see him later, but not much before midnight. As Lionel was leaving the office one of the literary staff touched him on the shoulder.

"Just the man I want to see," he said. "There is a telephone message come on the off-chance of your being here from the Central Theatre. A lady desires to see you there as soon as you can go round. She is in the last row of the dress circle, near the middle exit. Name of Armstrong, I fancy."

Lionel muttered his thanks, and made his way to the nearest cab stand. Surely Elsie had need of his services urgently, or she would never have sent a message like that. And, moreover, she had sent it direct from the theatre over the theatre's own telephone. Therefore it must have been something that had taken place after Elsie had reached the place of amusement in question. Also, it was good to look forward to seeing Elsie in any case. Perhaps the clouds that had come between them would be cleared away now and the old sweet relationship recovered. Lionel built up quite a pretty romance as he drove along the Strand.

He came to his destination at length and explained his errand at the box-office. As he knew the general manager of the place there was no difficulty. The curtain had just come down after the second act of the comedy, and the orchestra was playing. There was an odd seat by Elsie's side and Lionel stepped into it. The girl welcomed him with a tender little smile. She held out her hand impetuously, and Lionel kept the small palm in his own for a moment. He had never ceased to care for this girl, and he began to believe that she had never ceased to care for him. Her eyes told more than she would have cared to admit.

"This is very, very good of you," she said. "I hope you didn't mind. I got one of the assistants here to telephone to the office of the Record on the chance of finding you. I came here to-night, quite alone, to distract my thoughts. During the first act I saw nothing to attract my attention; I was quite absorbed in the piece. It was after the end of the first act that I began to look about the house. Do you see the box on the left-hand side of the stage—the upper box?"

The box was obvious enough, but it conveyed nothing to Lionel, for the simple reason that it was empty. He satisfied himself on that point by standing up to see.

"The box is there all right," he smiled. "But so far as one can judge there is nothing out of the common in that. Besides, the box is empty."

"Ah! that is because the girl has left it. I hope that she has not gone altogether. I don't know why she fascinated me from the first. She was dressed in green, and has a deathly-pale face and great black eyes that are terribly sad to look at. And I don't believe that she has glanced once at the stage."

"That is rather a weakness with society ladies, Elsie."

"You will be more interested before I have finished," Elsie said, quietly. "The curtain is going up again."