CHAPTER IV
OPENS SEVERAL QUESTIONS
Our next step in the inquiry was a domiciliary visit to Beacon House.
While the public, including Mr. Day, were expecting to see his nephew,we, of course, were hoping to find old Gregory.
In this we were disappointed. Already Treeton knew that both men weremissing from their lodgings. Yet while the police were watchingeverywhere for the dandified young man from London, the queer,white-haired old Sheffield steel manufacturer had slipped through theirfingers and vanished as though the earth had swallowed him up.
Mrs. Dean's house was a typical seaside lodging-house, plainly andcomfortably furnished--a double-fronted house painted pale blue, withlarge airy rooms and bay windows, which, situated high up and on thevery edge of the cliff, commanded extensive views up and down the coast.
The sitting-room occupied by uncle and nephew, proved to be a bigapartment on the first-floor, to the left of the entrance. The houses inthat row had a front door from the asphalt path along the edge of thecliff and also a back entrance abutting upon the narrow street which raninto the centre of the town. Therefore, the hall went from back tofront, the staircase ascending in the centre.
The room in which I stood with the detectives, was large, with acheerful lattice-work wall-paper, and substantial leather-coveredfurniture. In the window was placed a writing-table, and upon it atelescope mounted on a stand. A comfortable couch was placed against thewall, while before the fire-place were a couple of deep-seated easychairs, and a large oval table in the centre.
Indeed, the room possessed an air of homely comfort, with an absence ofthe inartistic seldom found in seaside apartments. The windows were openand the light breeze from the sun-lit sea slowly fanned the lacecurtains. On the writing-table lay a quantity of papers, mostlytradesmen's receipts--all of which the old gentleman carefullypreserved--some newspapers, a tin of tobacco, and several pipes.
Beside the fire-place lay a pair of Egyptian slippers in crimsonmorocco, evidently the property of young Craig, while his straw hat andcane lay upon the couch, together with the fawn Burberry coat which hadbeen one of the common objects in Cromer. Everywhere were signs ofoccupation. Indeed, the cushions in the easy chairs were crumpled justas if the two men had only a little while before arisen from them, whilein the grate were a number of ends of those gold-tipped cigaretteswithout which Craig was never seen.
Upon a peg behind the door hung another old grey mackintosh belonging toold Gregory--an exact replica of which had been worn by the man who hadso mysteriously met his death.
But where was old Gregory? Aye, that was the question.
With Mrs. Dean, a homely person with hair brushed tightly back, and herhusband looking on, we began a thorough search of the room, as well asof the two bedrooms on the next floor. The sitting-room was investigatedfirst of all, but in the writing-table we found nothing of interest. Oneof the drawers had been emptied and a mass of tinder in the grate told asignificant tale.
Old Mr. Gregory had burned a lot of documents before disappearing.
Why? Were they incriminating?
Why, too, had he so suddenly disappeared? Surely he would not have doneso without knowledge of his nephew's tragic death!
For a full half-hour we rummaged that room and all that was in it, but,alas, found nothing.
In the old man's bedroom stood a battered leathern cabin-trunk bearingmany labels of Continental hotels. It was unlocked, and we found itfilled with clothes, but strangely enough, not the clothes of an oldman, but rather the smart attire of a middle-aged person of fashion.
At first Frayne refused to believe that the trunk belonged to oldGregory. But Mrs. Dean was precise upon the point. That was Mr.Gregory's room.
In the bottom of the cabin-trunk we found a number of folded sheets offoolscap, upon which were written many cryptic calculations in feet andmetres; "wave-metres," it was written upon one slip. They seemed to beelectrical. Upon other sheets were lists of names together with certainfigures, all of which conveyed to us no meaning. Frayne, of course, tookpossession of them for submission to examination later on.
"May I look at them later?" I asked him.
"Certainly, Mr. Vidal. They seem to be a bit of a puzzle, don't they?They have something to do with electricity, I fancy."
In the corner of the room, opposite the window, stood a large woodensea-chest, similar to those used by naval officers. It was paintedblack, and bore, in white, the initials "V. G." It had an old andbattered appearance, and the many labels upon it told of years oftransit by rail and steamer.
I bent to examine it, but found it securely locked and bound round withiron bands.
"That's very heavy, sir," Mrs. Dean remarked. "He always kept it locked,so I don't know what's inside. When the old gentleman came in, he alwayswent straight over to it as though to ascertain whether the lock hadbeen tampered with."
"Ah, then there's something in there he wished to keep away from pryingeyes!" said Frayne. "We must see what it is."
I remarked that the lock was a patent one, but he at once ordered alocksmith to be fetched, while we turned our attention to the adjoiningroom, the one that had been occupied by young Craig.
It was slightly smaller than the other one, and overlooked the narrowstreet which ran along the back of the houses towards the church.
We searched the drawers carefully, one after another, but found nothingexcept clothes--a rather extensive wardrobe. Of cravats, Craig hadpossessed fully a hundred, and of collars, dozens upon dozens.
Upon his dressing-table stood the heavy silver fittings of atravelling-bag, a very handsome set, and, in a little silver box, wefound a set of diamond studs, with several valuable scarf-pins. Thedevice of one of these was some intertwined initials, surmounted by aroyal crown in diamonds; apparently a present from some exaltedpersonage.
Presently, however, Treeton, who had remained in Gregory's roomassisting in the perquisition, entered with an ejaculation of surprise,and we found that on pulling out the small drawer of the washstand, hehad discovered beneath it some papers that had been concealed there.
We at once eagerly examined them, and found that there were slipsexactly duplicating those discovered in old Gregory's wallet--slips withnames and numbers upon them--apparently code numbers.
Together with these were several papers bearing more remarkablecalculations, very similar to those we had found at the bottom of thecabin-trunk. The last document we examined was, however, something verydifferent. It was a letter written upon a large sheet of that foreignbusiness paper which is ruled in small squares.
"Hulloa!" Frayne exclaimed, "this is in some foreign language--French orGerman, I suppose."
"No," I said, glancing over his shoulder. "It's in Italian. I'll readit, shall I?"
"Yes, please, Mr. Vidal," cried the detective, and handed it to me.
It bore no address--only a date--March 17th, and translating it intoEnglish, I read as follows:--
"Illustrious Master,--The business we have been so long arranging wasmost successfully concluded last night. It is in the _Matin_ to-day, acopy of which I send you with our greeting. H. left as arranged. J.arrives back in Algiers to-morrow, and the Nightingale still sings onblithely. I leave by Brindisi for Egypt to-night and will wire my safearrival. Read the _Matin_. Does H. know anything, do you think?Greetings from your most devoted servant, EGISTO."
"A very funny letter," remarked Treeton. "I wonder to what it alludes?"
"Mention of the _Matin_ newspaper would make it appear that it has beenwritten from Paris," I said. Then, with Frayne's assent, I rapidlyscribbled a copy of the letter upon the back of an envelope which I tookfrom my pocket.
A few moments later, the locksmith having arrived, we returned to oldGregory's room, and watched the workman as he used his bunch ofskeleton-keys upon the lock of the big sea-chest. For ten minutes or sohe worked on unsuccessfully, but presently there was a click, and helifted the heavy wooden lid, displaying an old brown army
blanket,carefully folded, lying within.
This we removed, and then, as our astounded gaze fell upon the contentsof the chest, all involuntarily gave vent to loud ejaculations ofsurprise.
Concealed beneath the rug we saw a quantity of antique ornaments ofsilver and gold--rare objects of great value--ancient chalices,reliquaries, golden cups studded with precious stones, gold coronets, agreat number of fine old watches, and a vast quantity of splendiddiamond and ruby jewellery.
The chest was literally crammed with jewels, and gold, and silver--wasthe storehouse of a magnificent treasure, that must have been worth afabulous sum.
I assisted Frayne to take out the contents of the chest, until the floorwas covered with jewels. In one old brown morocco case that I opened, Ifound a glorious ruby necklet, with one enormous centre stone of perfectcolour--the largest I had ever seen. In another was a wonderful collarof perfectly matched pearls; in a third, a splendid diamond tiara worthseveral thousand pounds.
"Enough to stock a jeweller's shop," said Frayne in an awed voice."Why, what's this at the bottom?"
He began to tug at a heavy square wooden box, which, when he hadsucceeded in dragging it out and we opened it, we found to contain ahand flash-lamp for signalling purposes--one of the most recent andpowerful inventions in night-signalling apparatus.
"Ha!" Treeton cried. "That's the lamp which Day suspected had beenflashed from these windows on the night of the coast alarm."
"Yes," I remarked reflectively, "I wonder for what purpose that lamp wasused?"
"At any rate, the old man has a fine collection of curiosities," saidFrayne. "I suppose it was one of his eccentricities to carry them withhim? No wonder he was so careful that the lock should not be tamperedwith!"
I stood looking at that strange collection of valuables. There werepieces of gold and silver plate absolutely unique. I am no connoisseurof antique jewellery, but instinctively I knew that every piece was ofenormous value. And it had all been thrown pell-mell into the box,together with some old rags--seemingly once parts of an old damaskcurtain--in order to prevent the metal rattling. Much of the silver-warewas, of course, blackened, as none of it had been cleaned for years. Butthe gems sparkled and shone, like liquid drops of parti-coloured fire,as they lay upon the shabby carpet. What could it all mean?
Mrs. Dean, who was standing utterly aghast at this amazing discovery,jumped with nervousness as Frayne suddenly addressed her.
"Did Mr. Gregory have many visitors?"
"Not many, sir," was her reply. "His secretary used to come over fromSheffield sometimes--Mr. Fielder, I think his name was--a tall, thingentleman, who spoke with an accent as though he were a foreigner. Ibelieve he was a Frenchman, though he had an English name."
"Anybody else?"
"Mr. Clayton, the old schoolmaster from Sheringham, and--oh, yes--a ladycame from London one day, a short time ago, to see him--a young Frenchlady," replied Mrs. Dean.
"What was her name?"
"I don't know. It's about a fortnight ago since she came, one morningabout eleven, so she must have left London by the newspaper train. Sherang, and I answered the bell. She wouldn't let me take her name up toMr. Gregory, saying: 'She would go up, as she wanted to give him asurprise.' I pointed out his door and she went in. But I don't think theold gentleman exactly welcomed her."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I heard him raising his voice in anger," replied the landlady.
"Was Mr. Craig there?"
"No. He was out somewhere I think. My own belief is that the young ladywas Mr. Gregory's daughter. She stayed about an hour, and once, when Iopened the door, I heard her speaking with him very earnestly in French,asking him to do something, it seemed like. But he flatly refused andspoke to her very roughly; and at this she seemed very upset--quitebrokenhearted. I watched her leave. Her face was pale, and she lookedwretchedly miserable, as though in utter despair. But I forgot," addedMrs. Dean. "Three days later I found her photograph, which the old man,who was very angry, had flung into the waste-paper basket. I kept it,because it was such a pretty face. I'll run down and get it--if you'dlike to see it."
"Excellent," exclaimed Frayne, and the good woman descended the stairs.
A few moments later she came back with a cabinet photograph, which shehanded to the detective.
I glanced at it over his shoulder.
Then I held my breath, staggered and dumbfounded.
The colour must have left my cheeks, I think, for I was entirelyunprepared for such a shock.
But I pulled myself together, bit my lip, and by dint of a great effortmanaged to remain calm.
Nevertheless, my heart beat quickly as I gazed upon the picture of thatpretty face, that most open, innocent countenance, that I knew so well.
Those wide-open, trusting eyes, that sweet smile, those full redlips--ah!
And what was the secret? Aye, what, indeed?