CHAPTER IV
THE ROBBERY IN PHILLIMORE TERRACE
Whether Miss Polly Burton really did expect to see the man in the cornerthat Saturday afternoon, 'twere difficult to say; certain it is thatwhen she found her way to the table close by the window and realizedthat he was not there, she felt conscious of an overwhelming sense ofdisappointment. And yet during the whole of the week she had, with morepride than wisdom, avoided this particular A.B.C. shop.
"I thought you would not keep away very long," said a quiet voice closeto her ear.
She nearly lost her balance--where in the world had he come from? Shecertainly had not heard the slightest sound, and yet there he sat, inthe corner, like a veritable Jack-in-the-box, his mild blue eyes staringapologetically at her, his nervous fingers toying with the inevitablebit of string.
The waitress brought him his glass of milk and a cheese-cake. He ate itin silence, while his piece of string lay idly beside him on the table.When he had finished he fumbled in his capacious pockets, and drew outthe inevitable pocket-book.
Placing a small photograph before the girl, he said quietly:
"That is the back of the houses in Phillimore Terrace, which overlookAdam and Eve Mews."
She looked at the photograph, then at him, with a kindly look ofindulgent expectancy.
"You will notice that the row of back gardens have each an exit into themews. These mews are built in the shape of a capital F. The photographis taken looking straight down the short horizontal line, which ends, asyou see, in a _cul-de-sac_. The bottom of the vertical line turns intoPhillimore Terrace, and the end of the upper long horizontal line intoHigh Street, Kensington. Now, on that particular night, or rather earlymorning, of January 15th, Constable D 21, having turned into the mewsfrom Phillimore Terrace, stood for a moment at the angle formed by thelong vertical artery of the mews and the short horizontal one which, asI observed before, looks on to the back gardens of the Terrace houses,and ends in a _cul-de-sac_.
"How long D 21 stood at that particular corner he could not exactly say,but he thinks it must have been three or four minutes before he noticeda suspicious-looking individual shambling along under the shadow of thegarden walls. He was working his way cautiously in the direction of the_cul-de-sac_, and D 21, also keeping well within the shadow, wentnoiselessly after him.
"He had almost overtaken him--was, in fact, not more than thirty yardsfrom him--when from out of one of the two end houses--No. 22, PhillimoreTerrace, in fact--a man, in nothing but his night-shirt, rushed outexcitedly, and, before D 21 had time to intervene, literally threwhimself upon the suspected individual, rolling over and over with him onthe hard cobble-stones, and frantically shrieking, 'Thief! Thief!Police!'
"It was some time before the constable succeeded in rescuing the trampfrom the excited grip of his assailant, and several minutes before hecould make himself heard.
"'There! there! that'll do!' he managed to say at last, as he gave theman in the shirt a vigorous shove, which silenced him for the moment.'Leave the man alone now, you mustn't make that noise this time o'night, wakin' up all the folks.' The unfortunate tramp, who in themeanwhile had managed to get onto his feet again, made no attempt toget away; probably he thought he would stand but a poor chance. But theman in the shirt had partly recovered his power of speech, and was nowblurting out jerky, half--intelligible sentences:
"'I have been robbed--robbed--I--that is--my master--Mr. Knopf. The deskis open--the diamonds gone--all in my charge--and--now they are stolen!That's the thief--I'll swear--I heard him--not three minutes ago--rusheddownstairs--the door into the garden was smashed--I ran across thegarden--he was sneaking about here still--Thief! Thief! Police!Diamonds! Constable, don't let him go--I'll make you responsible if youlet him go--'
"'Now then--that'll do!' admonished D 21 as soon as he could get a wordin, 'stop that row, will you?'
"The man in the shirt was gradually recovering from his excitement.
"'Can I give this man in charge?' he asked.
"'What for?'
"'Burglary and housebreaking. I heard him, I tell you. He must have Mr.Knopf's diamonds about him at this moment.'
"'Where is Mr. Knopf?'
"'Out of town,' groaned the man in the shirt. 'He went to Brighton lastnight, and left me in charge, and now this thief has been and--'
"The tramp shrugged his shoulders and suddenly, without a word, hequietly began taking off his coat and waistcoat. These he handed acrossto the constable. Eagerly the man in the shirt fell on them, and turnedthe ragged pockets inside out. From one of the windows a hilarious voicemade some facetious remark, as the tramp with equal solemnity begandivesting himself of his nether garments.
"'Now then, stop that nonsense,' pronounced D 21 severely, 'what wereyou doing here this time o' night, anyway?'
"'The streets o' London is free to the public, ain't they?' queried thetramp.
"'This don't lead nowhere, my man.'
"'Then I've lost my way, that's all,' growled the man surlily, 'andp'raps you'll let me get along now.'
"By this time a couple of constables had appeared upon the scene. D 21had no intention of losing sight of his friend the tramp, and the man inthe shirt had again made a dash for the latter's collar at the bare ideathat he should be allowed to 'get along.'
"I think D 21 was alive to the humour of the situation. He suggestedthat Robertson (the man in the night-shirt) should go in and get someclothes on, whilst he himself would wait for the inspector and thedetective, whom D 15 would send round from the station immediately.
"Poor Robertson's teeth were chattering with cold. He had a violent fitof sneezing as D 21 hurried him into the house. The latter, with anotherconstable, remained to watch the burglared premises both back andfront, and D 15 took the wretched tramp to the station with a view tosending an inspector and a detective round immediately.
"When the two latter gentlemen arrived at No. 22, Phillimore Terrace,they found poor old Robertson in bed, shivering, and still quite blue.He had got himself a hot drink, but his eyes were streaming and hisvoice was terribly husky. D 21 had stationed himself in the dining-room,where Robertson had pointed the desk out to him, with its broken lockand scattered contents.
"Robertson, between his sneezes, gave what account he could of theevents which happened immediately before the robbery.
"His master, Mr. Ferdinand Knopf, he said, was a diamond merchant, and abachelor. He himself had been in Mr. Knopf's employ over fifteen years,and was his only indoor servant. A charwoman came every day to do thehousework.
"Last night Mr. Knopf dined at the house of Mr. Shipman, at No. 26,lower down. Mr. Shipman is the great jeweller who has his place ofbusiness in South Audley Street. By the last post there came a letterwith the Brighton postmark, and marked 'urgent,' for Mr. Knopf, and he(Robertson) was just wondering if he should run over to No. 26 with it,when his master returned. He gave one glance at the contents of theletter, asked for his A.B.C. Railway Guide, and ordered him (Robertson)to pack his bag at once and fetch him a cab.
"'I guessed what it was,' continued Robertson after another violent fitof sneezing. 'Mr. Knopf has a brother, Mr. Emile Knopf, to whom he isvery much attached, and who is a great invalid. He generally goes aboutfrom one seaside place to another. He is now at Brighton, and hasrecently been very ill.
"'If you will take the trouble to go downstairs I think you will stillfind the letter lying on the hall table.
"'I read it after Mr. Knopf left; it was not from his brother, but froma gentleman who signed himself J. Collins, M.D. I don't remember theexact words, but, of course, you'll be able to read the letter--Mr. J.Collins said he had been called in very suddenly to see Mr. Emile Knopf,who, he added, had not many hours to live, and had begged of the doctorto communicate at once with his brother in London.
"'Before leaving, Mr. Knopf warned me that there were some valuables inhis desk--diamonds mostly, and told me to be particularly careful aboutlocking up the house. He often has left me like
this in charge of hispremises, and usually there have been diamonds in his desk, for Mr.Knopf has no regular City office as he is a commercial traveller.'
"This, briefly, was the gist of the matter which Robertson related tothe inspector with many repetitions and persistent volubility.
"The detective and inspector, before returning to the station with theirreport, thought they would call at No. 26, on Mr. Shipman, the greatjeweller.
"You remember, of course," added the man in the corner, dreamilycontemplating his bit of string, "the exciting developments of thisextraordinary case. Mr. Arthur Shipman is the head of the firm ofShipman and Co., the wealthy jewellers. He is a widower, and lives veryquietly by himself in his own old-fashioned way in the small Kensingtonhouse, leaving it to his two married sons to keep up the style andswagger befitting the representatives of so wealthy a firm.
"'I have only known Mr. Knopf a very little while,' he explained to thedetectives. 'He sold me two or three stones once or twice, I think; butwe are both single men, and we have often dined together. Last night hedined with me. He had that afternoon received a very fine consignment ofBrazilian diamonds, as he told me, and knowing how beset I am withcallers at my business place, he had brought the stones with him,hoping, perhaps, to do a bit of trade over the nuts and wine.
"'I bought L25,000 worth of him,' added the jeweller, as if he werespeaking of so many farthings, 'and gave him a cheque across the dinnertable for that amount. I think we were both pleased with our bargain,and we had a final bottle of '48 port over it together. Mr. Knopf leftme at about 9.30, for he knows I go very early to bed, and I took my newstock upstairs with me, and locked it up in the safe. I certainly heardnothing of the noise in the mews last night. I sleep on the secondfloor, in the front of the house, and this is the first I have heard ofpoor Mr. Knopf's loss--'
"At this point of his narrative Mr. Shipman very suddenly paused, andhis face became very pale. With a hasty word of excuse heunceremoniously left the room, and the detective heard him runningquickly upstairs.
"Less than two minutes later Mr. Shipman returned. There was no need forhim to speak; both the detective and the inspector guessed the truth ina moment by the look upon his face.
"'The diamonds!' he gasped. 'I have been robbed.'"