"The cabinet, on its four monstrous legs, stood in a downstairs room, which at first sight struck one as being dangerous. But Rube was, in reality, taking no risks. Every known form of burglar-proof apparatus protected that apparently harmless-looking cabinet. The glass, though flawless, was an inch thick: the lock was a special combination, one that was reset daily by Rube himself. But he went much further than that. Not only were the windows and the door fitted with electric alarms that rang all over the house if they were tampered with, but the cabinet itself, when set, gave anyone who touched it a shock which, even if not strong enough to electrocute them, was powerful enough to lay them out temporarily. And when, in addition to all that, it was known that the diamond was always returned to the London bank when Sir Rube was not in residence, you will realise that it was a pretty tough nut for any burglar to crack.
"But there were still further difficulties to contend with. Two of the men who had gone to prison vowing vengeance against Rube were accounted for. One had died in jail: the other had gone over with the South African contingent and had been killed at Delville Wood. But the third, and most dangerous, still remained. And the Knight of the British Empire was taking no chances. In addition to carrying, himself, a six-shooter with which he was a deadly performer, he kept a couple of prize-fighting toughs about the place as a sort of personal bodyguard. They remained in the background if a house party was there, because their appearance was so awful that they used to spoil the guests' appetites if seen. But their orders were to deal in their own way with any unauthorised man whom they saw loitering in the grounds or near the house."
The little man paused and lit another cigarette.
"So, as I said before," he continued. "I think you will agree that the removal of the Magor diamond was a pretty tough proposition. And that being the case, it was all the greater incentive to the big men to try. Human nature is the same in all branches of life, and the greater the difficulties the keener the zest in overcoming them. But, though two or three attempts were made, failure was registered each time. One man, it is true, negotiated the burglar-proof window in some extraordinary way, but was defeated by the cabinet itself. In fact, when he was found next morning, he was only just alive.
"And so, as years passed and the great Magor diamond still remained in its golden casket. Sir Rube, though he never relaxed his precautions, became more or less contemptuous in his references to the abilities of what he was pleased to call the underworld.
"'Show me the man who will lift that stone he was wont to say, 'and I'll give ten thousand pounds to any charity you like to mention.'
"It was six years ago that the third man of whom I have told you was liberated from jail. His name was Mark Sanderson, and he was just about as dangerous a wild beast as you are ever likely to meet. He had always been a wrong un, but his life in prison had made him a hundred times worse. And, somewhat naturally, Rube Jenkins was the principal object of his hatred.
"No sooner had he landed in England than he began to write threatening letters, and Sir Rube at once put the matter in the hands of the police. With a very strange result—one of the strangest perhaps in the whole of the baffling case. Though he gave the police a description of the man, which they supplemented by reference to South Africa, no trace of Mark Sanderson was ever discovered. He was known to have embarked at Cape Town: he was known to have landed at Southampton, but from that moment he vanished completely, though the letters continued to arrive from widely separated parts of the country with monotonous regularity. It took, of course, a day at least for each one to arrive, and by that time the postmark was useless. Nevertheless, it was a very extraordinary thing, that a man for whom the entire police force was looking should be able to hide himself for nearly a year in England; for it was eleven months after Mark Sanderson landed that the robbery took place. During that time Sir Rube was not idle, He had an electrician down to overhaul and strengthen the whole system round the cabinet. He engaged another prize-fighter to make the total three. But one thing he would not do. To every suggestion that he should store the diamond permanently at his bank he turned a deaf ear. He utterly refused to confess to being frightened of Mark Sanderson, and to do that would have been tantamount to such a confession.
"And so we come to the house party which assembled at Mexbridge Towers for Ascot in the year of the crime, of which, even at the risk of boring you, I will give you a list. There were the Earl and Countess of Shotover; a Colonel and Mrs. Maddox; a stockbroker named Leader and his wife; Professor Rankel, the well-known art connoisseur and enthusiastic lepidopterist; Aaronhaus, the big Hatton Garden diamond man; two girls, whose names I forget, and the host and hostess.
"Not, as you will agree, a very well assorted lot, but Rube, even then, had to be content with what he could get. The Shotovers, as you know, go anywhere provided they are done well; Colonel Maddox and his wife were of much the same brand. They were all four of them chronically hard up. The stockbroker was the senior partner of the firm that Rube employed most; the diamond man was also a business acquaintance; while Professor Rankel had, after much pressing, been persuaded to come to give his opinion on the art treasures. And finally the two girls were there merely to make up the numbers.
"Such, then, was the party that went in to dinner on the night of the Gold Cup. They had all been over to the races: even the Professor had been inveigled into going for the first time in his life. 'It has been a long-standing promise of mine to come and see your collection,' he told his host, 'but attending a horse-race was not part of the bargain. However, if you insist, I will go.'
"And he had gone, leaving Shotover fainting in the hall at his rig. 'My dear Jenkins,' he said feebly, 'the little man can't wear a frock-coat and a bowler. He can't. He mustn't. We shall all be assassinated on the course. And what in the name of fortune is he taking a butterfly-net for?' It was, I may mention, a peculiar fad of the Professor's to carry a butterfly-net and killing-bottle with him wherever he went, and it was only with considerable difficulty, on this occasion, that he was persuaded to leave them in the car. So great was his enthusiasm for his hobby that had he seen any specimen he wanted fluttering over the course, he would probably have pursued it quite heedless of the racing. But the danger had been averted and a very cheerful party sat down to dine. Shotover had backed a couple of long-priced winners: a horse of Rube's had won one of the smaller races, and a Duchess had nodded to Lady Jenkins by mistake.
"Then quite suddenly the atmosphere changed. A letter was handed on a salver to Rube, and the instant he saw it his face turned purple.
"'When did this come?' he roared.
"'Just been delivered, Sir Rube,' said the butler.
"'Search the grounds, Wilcox,' cried his master. 'Tell Robinson and the others to look everywhere.' Robinson was the chief of the three prize-fighters. 'The insolence of the scoundrel!' he went on furiously. 'It's that blackguard Sanderson again. You remember I told you about him, Shotover?'
"'Why not open the note and see what he has to say?' said the other languidly. Which proceeding made matters worse. Sir Rube's voice became so suffused with rage as to become inaudible, and Lady Shotover, after a moment or two, calmly removed it from his hand.
"'You poor fish,' she read aloud, 'I dare you to hand round the diamond as usual tonight.'
"Now, I may tell you it was the invariable custom, when a house party assembled at Mexbridge Towers, to pass the Magor diamond round from hand to hand one evening after dinner. It was done with due ceremony, and the pleasing idea underlying the performance was that all the honoured guests should be able to say in the future that they had held in their hands for a moment a thing the value of which would have saved hundreds of poor people from starvation.
"'Dares me!' spluttered Sir Rube. 'Dares me! I'll show the rotten cur what I dare and what I don't! And what's more, I'll catch him this time, if he gives me half a chance. I'll show those blundering fools of police how to do their own job.'"
The meal proceeded, but the harmony of the evening was shattered. And things were not improved when they adjourned after dinner, by the Professor, who had in a fit of absent-mindedness left his butterfly-net