“Some trick of that beastly light,” remarked the Duke peevishly. “For heaven’s sake, throw the damn thing out of the window.”
“Don’t be a fool, John,” retorted his spouse. “If you could do this sort of thing, the House of Lords might be some use to somebody.”
And when two minutes later they stared horror-struck at a row of ordinary marbles laboriously unwrapped from a piece of gold and silver tissue, the Duke’s pungent agreement with his wife’s sentiment passed uncontradicted. In fact, it is to be understood that over the scene which followed it was best to draw a decent veil.
III
Drummond, hunched low over the wheel, in his endeavour to conceal his identity from the man behind, knew nothing of that at the time. Every nerve was centred on eluding the pursuit he thought was a certainty; for the thought of Lakington, when everything was prepared for his reception, being snatched from his clutches even by the majesty of the law was more than he could bear. And for much the same reason he did not want to have to deal with him until The Elms was reached; the staging there was so much more effective.
But Lakington was far too busy to bother with the chauffeur. One snarling curse as they had entered, for not having done as he had been told, was the total of their conversation during the trip. During the rest of the time the transformation to the normal kept Lakington busy, and Hugh could see him reflected in the windscreen removing the make-up from his face, and changing his clothes.
Even now he was not quite clear how the trick had been worked. That there had been two cabinets, that was clear—one false, the other the real one. That they had been changed at the crucial moment by the girl Irma was also obvious. But how had the pearls disappeared in the first case, and then apparently reappeared again? For of one thing he was quite certain. Whatever was inside the parcel of gold and silver tissue which, for all he knew, they might be still staring at, it was not the historic necklace.
And he was still puzzling it over in his mind when the car swung into the drive at The Elms.
“Change the wheels as usual,” snapped Lakington as he got out, and Hugh bent forward to conceal his face. “Then report to me in the central room.”
And out of the corner of his eye Hugh watched him enter the house with one of the Chinese cabinets clasped in his hand… “Toby,” he remarked to that worthy, whom he found mournfully eating a ham sandwich in the garage, “I feel sort of sorry for our Henry. He’s just had the whole complete ducal outfit guessing, dressed up as an Indian; he’s come back here with a box containing the Duchess’s pearls or I’ll eat my hat, and feeling real good with himself; and now instead of enjoying life he’s got to have a little chat with me.”
“Did you drive him back?” demanded Sinclair, producing a bottle of Bass.
“Owing to the sudden decease of his chauffeur I had to,” murmured Hugh. “And he’s very angry over something. Let’s go on the roof.”
Silently they both climbed the ladder which had been placed in readiness, to find Peter Darrell and the American detective already in position. A brilliant light streamed out through the glass dome, and the inside of the central room was clearly visible.
“He’s already talked to what he thinks is you,” whispered Peter ecstatically, “and he is not in the best of tempers.”
Hugh glanced down, and a grim smile flickered round his lips. In the three chairs sat the motionless, bound figures, so swathed in rope that only the tops of their heads were visible, just as Lakington had left him and Toby and Algy earlier in the evening. The only moving thing in the room was the criminal himself, and at the moment he was seated at the table with the Chinese cabinet in front of him. He seemed to be doing something inside with a penknife, and all the time he kept up a running commentary to the three bound figures.
“Well, you young swine, have you enjoyed your night?” A feeble moan came from one of the chairs. “Spirit broken at last, is it?” With a quick turn of his wrist he prised open two flaps of wood, and folded them back against the side. Then he lifted out a parcel of gold and silver tissue from underneath.
“My hat!” muttered Hugh. “What a fool I was not to think of it! Just a false bottom actuated by closing the lid. And a similar parcel in the other cabinet.”
But the American, whistling gently to himself, had his eyes fixed on the rope of wonderful pearls which Lakington was holding lovingly in his hands.
“So easy, you scum,” continued Lakington, “and you thought to pit yourself against me. Though if it hadn”t been for Irma”—he rose and stood in front of the chair where he had last left Drummond—“it might have been awkward. She was quick, Captain Drummond, and that fool of a chauffeur failed to carry out my orders, and create a diversion. You will see what happens to people who fail to carry out my orders in a minute. And after that you’ll never see anything again.”
“Say, he’s a dream—that guy,” muttered the American. “What pearls are those he’s got?”
“The Duchess of Lampshire’s,” whispered Hugh. “Lifted right under the noses of the whole bally house party.”
With a grunt the detective re-arranged his chewing-gum; then once more the four watchers on the roof glued their eyes to the glass. And the sight they saw a moment or two afterwards stirred even the phlegmatic Mr. Green.
A heavy door was swinging slowly open, apparently of its own volition, though Hugh, stealing a quick glance at Lakington, saw that he was pressing some small studs in a niche in one of the walls. Then he looked back at the door, and stared dumbfounded. It was the mysterious cupboard of which Phyllis had spoken to him, but nothing he had imagined from her words had prepared him for the reality. It seemed to be literally crammed to overflowing with the most priceless loot. Gold vessels of fantastic and beautiful shapes littered the floor; while on the shelves were arranged the most wonderful collection of precious stones, which shone and scintillated in the electric light till their glitter almost blinded the watchers.
“Shades of Chu Chin Chow, Ali Baba and the forty pundits!” muttered Toby. “The man’s a genius.”
The pearls were carefully placed in a position of honour, and for a few moments Lakington stood gloating over his collection.
“Do you see them, Captain Drummond?” he asked quietly. “Each thing obtained by my brain—my hands. All mine—mine!” His voice rose to a shout. “And you pit your puny wits against me.” With a laugh he crossed the room, and once more pressed the studs. The door swung slowly to and closed without a sound, while Lakington still shook with silent mirth.
“And now,” he resumed, rubbing his hands, “we will prepare your bath, Captain Drummond.” He walked over to the shelves where the bottles were ranged, and busied himself with some preparations. “And while it is getting ready, we will just deal with the chauffeur who neglected his orders.”
For a few minutes he bent over the chemicals, and then he poured the mixture into the water which half filled the long bath at the end of the room. A faintly acid smell rose to the four men above, and the liquid turned a pale green.
“I told you I had all sorts of baths, didn’t I?” continued Lakington; “some for those who are dead, and some for those who are alive. This is the latter sort, and has the great advantage of making the bather wish it was one of the former.” He stirred the liquid gently with a long glass rod. “About five minutes before we’re quite ready,” he announced. “Just time for the chauffeur.”
He went to a speaking-tube, down which he blew. Somewhat naturally there was no answer, and Lakington frowned.
“A stupid fellow,” he remarked softly. “But there is no hurry; I will deal with him later.”
“You certainly will,” muttered Hugh on the roof. “And perhaps not quite so much later as you think, friend Henry.”
But