MARTIN HEWITT Complete Series: 25 Mysteries in One Volume (Illustrated). Arthur Morrison

rise erect in the gathering dusk, and with extended arm step noiselessly toward the stooping man. Wilks made a motion to place the dark object in his pocket, but checked himself, and opened what appeared to be a lid, as though to make sure of the safety of the contents. The last light, straggling under the trees, fell on a brilliantly sparkling object within, and like a flash Hewitt’s hand shot over Wilks’ shoulder and snatched the jewel.

      The man actually screamed—one of those curious sharp little screams that one may hear from a woman very suddenly alarmed. But he sprang at Hewitt like a cat, only to meet a straight drive of the fist that stretched him on his back across the slab. I sprang from behind my stone, and helped Hewitt to secure his wrists with a pocket-handkerchief. Then we marched him, struggling and swearing, to the village.

      When, in the lights of the village, he recognized us, he had a perfect fit of rage, but afterward he calmed down, and admitted that it was a “very clean cop.” There was some difficulty in finding the village constable, and Sir Valentine Quinton was dining out and did not arrive for at least an hour. In the interval Wilks grew communicative.

      “How much d’ye think I’ll get?” he asked.

      “Can’t guess,” Hewitt replied. “And as we shall probably have to give evidence, you’ll be giving yourself away if you talk too much.”

      “Oh, I don’t care; that’ll make no difference. It’s a fair cop, and I’m in for it. You got at me nicely, lending me three quid. I never knew a reeler do that before. That blinded me. But was it kid about Gold Street?”

      “No, it wasn’t. Mr. Hollams is safely shut up by this time, I expect, and you are avenged for your little trouble with him this afternoon.”

      “What did you know about that? Well, you’ve got it up nicely for me, I must say. S’pose you’ve been following me all the time?”

      “Well, yes; I haven’t been far off. I guessed you’d want to clear out of town if Hollams was taken, and I knew this”—Hewitt tapped his breast pocket—“was what you’d take care to get hold of first. You hid it, of course, because you knew that Hollams would probably have you searched for it if he got suspicious?”

      “Yes, he did, too. Two blokes went over my pockets one night, and somebody got into my room. But I expected that, Hollams is such a greedy pig. Once he’s got you under his thumb he don’t give you half your makings, and, if you kick, he’ll have you smugged. So that I wasn’t going to give him that if I could help it. I s’pose it ain’t any good asking how you got put on to our mob?”

      “No,” said Hewitt, “it isn’t.”

      We didn’t get back till the next day, staying for the night, despite an inconvenient want of requisites, at the Hall. There were, in fact, no late trains. We told Sir Valentine the story of the Irishman, much to his amusement.

      “Leamy’s tale sounded unlikely, of course,” Hewitt said, “but it was noticeable that every one of his misfortunes pointed in the same direction—that certain persons were tremendously anxious to get at something they supposed he had. When he spoke of his adventure with the bag, I at once remembered Wilks’ arrest and subsequent release. It was a curious coincidence, to say the least, that this should happen at the very station to which the proceeds of this robbery must come, if they came to London at all, and on the day following the robbery itself. Kedderby is one of the few stations on this line where no trains would stop after the time of the robbery, so that the thief would have to wait till the next day to get back. Leamy’s recognition of Wilks’ portrait made me feel pretty certain. Plainly, he had carried stolen property; the poor, innocent fellow’s conversation with Hollams showed that, as, in fact, did the sum, five pounds, paid to him by way of ‘regulars,’ or customary toll, from the plunder of services of carriage. Hollams obviously took Leamy for a criminal friend of Wilks’, because of his use of the thieves’ expressions ‘sparks’ and ‘regulars,’ and suggested, in terms which Leamy misunderstood, that he should sell any plunder he might obtain to himself, Hollams. Altogether it would have been very curious if the plunder were not that from Radcot Hall, especially as no other robbery had been reported at the time.

      “Now, among the jewels taken, only one was of a very pre-eminent value—the famous ruby. It was scarcely likely that Hollams would go to so much trouble and risk, attempting to drug, injuring, waylaying, and burgling the rooms of the unfortunate Leamy, for a jewel of small value—for any jewel, in fact, but the ruby. So that I felt a pretty strong presumption, at all events, that it was the ruby Hollams was after. Leamy had not had it, I was convinced, from his tale and his manner, and from what I judged of the man himself. The only other person was Wilks, and certainly he had a temptation to keep this to himself, and avoid, if possible, sharing with his London director, or principal; while the carriage of the bag by the Irishman gave him a capital opportunity to put suspicion on him, with the results seen. The most daring of Hollams’ attacks on Leamy was doubtless the attempted maiming or killing at the railway station, so as to be able, in the character of a medical man, to search his pockets. He was probably desperate at the time, having, I have no doubt, been following Leamy about all day at the Crystal Palace without finding an opportunity to get at his pockets.

      “The struggle and flight of Wilks from Hollams’ confirmed my previous impressions. Hollams, finally satisfied that very morning that Leamy certainly had not the jewel, either on his person or at his lodging, and knowing, from having so closely watched him, that he had been nowhere where it could be disposed of, concluded that Wilks was cheating him, and attempted to extort the ruby from him by the aid of another ruffian and a pistol. The rest of my way was plain. Wilks, I knew, would seize the opportunity of Hollams’ being safely locked up to get at and dispose of the ruby. I supplied him with funds and left him to lead us to his hiding-place. He did it, and I think that’s all.”

      “He must have walked straight away from my house to the churchyard,” Sir Valentine remarked, “to hide that pendant. That was fairly cool.”

      “Only a cool hand could carry out such a robbery single-handed,” Hewitt answered. “I expect his tools were in the bag that Leamy carried, as well as the jewels. They must have been a small and neat set.”

      They were. We ascertained on our return to town the next day that the bag, with all its contents intact, including the tools, had been taken by the police at their surprise visit to No. 8 Gold Street, as well as much other stolen property.

      Hollams and Wilks each got very wholesome doses of penal servitude, to the intense delight of Mick Leamy. Leamy himself, by the by, is still to be seen, clad in a noble uniform, guarding the door of a well-known London restaurant. He has not had any more five-pound notes for carrying bags, but knows London too well now to expect it.

1 Seen your face.

2 A year.

3 Been imprisoned.

4 Hat.

5 Police.

6 Clothes.

7 Robbery.

8 Spent the money.

9 Drunk.

10 Police