CHAPTER XXVI
JUSTICE--AND JUSTIFICATION
The court room was crowded on every side. There was barely space foranother person to enter in comfort, and when the news went round in thestreet that Sir Nigel Merriton, late of the army, was being tried for hislife, and that things were going pretty black against him, all Londonseemed to turn out with a morbid curiosity to hear the sentence of deathpassed.
Petrie, stationed at the door, spent most of his time waving awhite-gloved hand, and shaking his head until he felt that it wouldshortly tumble off his neck and roll away upon the pavement. Mr. Narkomhad given him instructions that if any one of "any importance in theaffair in question" should turn up, he was to admit him, but to beadamant in every other case. And so the queue of morbid-minded women andidle men grew long and longer, and the clamour louder and louder, untilthe tempers of the police on guard grew very short, and the crowd washandled more and more firmly.
The effect of this began to tell. Slowly it thinned out and the peopleturned once more into the Strand, sauntering along with their heads halfthe time over their shoulders, while Petrie stood and mopped his face andwondered what had become of Mr. Cleek, or if he had turned up in one ofhis many _aliases_, and he hadn't recognized him.
"Like as not that's what's happened," he told himself, stuffing histhumbs into his policeman's belt and setting his feet apart. "But whatgets over me is, not a sight 'ave I seen of young Dollops. And where Mr.Cleek is.... Well, that there young feller is bound to be, too. Case isdrawin' to a close, I reckon, by this time. I wouldn't be in _that_ younglord's shoes!"
He shook his head at the thought, and fell to considering the matter andin a most sympathetic frame of mind if the truth be told.
Half-an-hour passed, another sped by. The crowd now worried him verylittle, and judging from one or two folk that drifted out of the courtroom, with rather pale faces and set mouths, as though they had heardsomething that sickened them, and were going to be out of it before theend came, Petrie began to think that that end was approaching very near.
And he hadn't seen Mr. Cleek go into the place, or Dollops either! Funnything that. In his phone message that morning, Mr. Cleek had said hewould be at the court sharp at one, and it was half-past two now. Well,he was sorry the guv'nor hadn't turned up in time. He'd be disappointed,no doubt, and after all the telephoning and hunting up of directoriesthat he himself had done personally that very morning, Mr. Cleek would befeeling rather "off it" if he turned up too late.
Petrie took a few steps up and down, and his eyes roamed the Strandleisurely. He came to a sudden halt, as a red limousine--_the_ redlimousine he knew so well--whirled up to the pavement's edge, stoppedin front of him with a grinding of brakes, a door flashed open, and heheard the sound of a sharp order given in that one unmistakable voice.Mr. Cleek was there, followed by Dollops, close at his heels, and lookingas though they had torn through hell itself to get there in time.
Petrie took a hurried step forward and swung back the big iron gate stillfarther.
"In time, Petrie?" Cleek asked breathlessly.
"Just about, sir. Near shave, though, from what I see of the peoplea-comin' out. 'Eard the case 'ad gone against Sir Nigel, sir--poor chap.'Ere, you, Dollops--"
But Dollops was gone in his master's wake, in his arms a huge, ungainlybundle that looked like a stove-pipe wrapped up in brown paper, gonethrough the court room door, without so much as passing the time of daywith an old pal. Petrie felt distinctly hurt about it, and sauntered backto his place with his smile gone, while Cleek, hurrying through thecrowded court room and passing, by the sheer power of his name, thevarious court officials who would have stopped him, stopped only as hereached the space before the judge's bench. Already the jury were filingin, one by one, and taking their seats. The black cap lay beside Mr.Justice Grainger's spectacles, a sinister emblem, having its response inthe white-faced man who stood in the dock, awaiting the verdict upon hislife.
Cleek saw it all in one glance, and then spoke.
"Your Lordship," he said, addressing the judge, who looked at him withraised eyebrows, "may I address the court?" The barristers arose,scandalized at the interruption, knowing not whether advantage forprosecution or defence lay in what this man had to say. The clerk of thecourt stood aghast ready to order the court officers to eject theinterloper who dared interrupt the course of the majestic law. All stoodpoised for a breathless moment, held in check by the power of the manCleek, or by uncertainty as to the action of the judge.
A tense pause, and then the court broke the silence, "You may speak."
"Your Lordship, may it please the court," said Cleek, "I have evidencehere which will save this man's life. I demand to show it to the court."
The barristers, held in check by the stern practice of the English law,which, unlike American practice does not allow counsel to becloud theissue with objection and technical argument, remained motionless. Theyknew Cleek, and knew that here was the crisis of the case they hadpresented so learnedly.
"This is an unusual occurrence, sir," at last spoke the judge, "and youare distinctly late. The jury has returned and the foreman is about topronounce the verdict. What is it you have to say, sir?"
"Your Lordship, it is simply this." Cleek threw back his head. "Theprisoner at bar--" He pointed to Merriton, who at the first sound ofCleek's voice had spun round, a sudden hope finding birth in his dulleyes, "is _innocent_! I have absolute proof. Also--" He switched roundupon his heel and surveyed the court room, "I beg of your Lordship thatyou will immediately give orders for no person to leave this court. Theinstigator of the crime is before my eyes. Perhaps you do not know me,but I have been at work upon this case for some time, and am a colleagueof Mr. Narkom of Scotland Yard. My name is--Cleek--Hamilton Cleek. Ihave your permission to continue?"
A murmur went up round the crowded court room. The judge nodded. Heneeded no introduction to Cleek.
"The gentlemen of the jury will be seated," declared the court, "theclerk will call Hamilton Cleek as a witness."
This formality accomplished, the judge indicated that he, himself, wouldquestion this crucial eleventh-hour witness.
"Mr. Cleek," he began, "you say this man is innocent. We will hear yourstory."
Cleek motioned to Dollops, who stood at the back of the court, andinstantly the lad pushed his way through the crowd to his master's side,carrying the long, ungainly burden in his arms. Meanwhile, at the back ofthe room a commotion had occurred. The magic name of that most magical ofmen--Hamilton Cleek, detective--had wrought what Cleek had known itwould. Someone was pushing for the door with all the strength that was inhim, but already the key had turned, and Hammond, as guardian, held uphis hand.
Cleek knew--but for the time said nothing--and the crowd had hiddenwhoever it was from the common view. He simply motioned Dollops to layhis burden upon the table, and then spoke once more.
"M' Lud," he said clearly, "may I ask a favour of the court? Ishould be obliged if you would call every witness in this matterhere--simultaneously. Set them out in a row, if you will, but callthem _now_.... Thanks."
The judge motioned to the clerk, and through the hushed silence ofthe court the dull voice droned out: "Anthony West, William Borkins,Lester Stark, Gustave Brellier, Miss Antoinette Brellier, DoctorBartholomew...." And so on through the whole list. As each name wascalled the owner of it came forward and stood in front of the judge'shigh desk.
"A most unusual proceeding, sir," said that worthy, again settling thespectacles upon his nose and frowning down at Cleek; "but, knowing whoyou are--"
"I appreciate your Lordship's kindness. Now then, all there?" Cleekwhirled suddenly, and surveyed the strange line. "That's good. And atleast every one of them is _here_. No chance of slipping away now. Nowfor it."
He turned back to the table with something of suppressed eagerness in hismovements, and a low murmur of excitement went up round the crowdedcourt room. Rapidly he tore off the wrappings from the long, snake-likebundle, and
held one of the objects up to view.
"Allow me to draw your attention to this," he said, in a loud, clearvoice, every note of which carried to the back of the long room. "This,as you possibly know, sir, is a piece of electric tubing made for theexpress purpose of conveying safely delicate electric wirings that areused for installations, so that they may not be damaged in transit fromthe factory to--the agent who sells them. You would like to see thewirings, I know--" For answer he whipped open the joints of one of thetubes, set it upon end, and--from inside the narrow casing came a perfectshower of golden sovereigns clattering to the floor and across the tablein front of the astonished clerk's eyes.
The judge sat up suddenly and rubbed his eyes.
"God bless my soul!" he began, and then subsided into silence. Theeyes of young Sir Nigel Merriton nearly leapt from their sockets withastonishment; and every man in the crowd was gaping.
Cleek laughed.
"Rather of a surprise, I must admit; isn't it?" he said, with a slightshrug of the shoulders. "And no doubt you're wondering what all this hasto do with the case in hand. Well, that'll come along all in good time.Golden sovereigns, you see, carefully stacked up to fill the littletubing to its capacity--and thousands of 'em done the same, too! There'sa perfect fortune down there in that factory at Saltfleet! Mr. Narkom,"he turned round and surveyed the Superintendent with mirthful eyes, "whatabout these bank robberies now, eh? I told you something would crop up.You see it has. We've discovered the hiding-place of the gold--and theprime leader in the whole distressing affair. The rest ought to be easy."He whipped round suddenly toward the line of witnesses, letting his eyestravel over each face in turn; past Tony West's reddened countenance,past Dr. Bartholomew's pale intensity, past Borkins, standing verystraight and white and frightened-looking. Then, of a sudden he leaptforward, his hand clamped down upon someone's shoulder, and his voiceexclaimed triumphantly:
"And here the beauty is!"
Then, before the astonished eyes of the crowd of spectators stood Mr.Gustave Brellier, writhing and twisting in the clutch of the firm fingersand spitting forth fury in a Flemish patois that would have struck Cleekdead on the spot--if words could kill.
A sudden din arose. People pressed forward, the better to see and hear,exclaiming loudly, condemning, criticising. The judge's frail old handbrought silence at last, and Antoinette Brellier came forward from herplace and clutched Cleek by the arm.
"It cannot be, Mr.--Cleek!" she said piteously. "I tell you my uncle isthe best of men, truly! He could never have done this thing that youaccuse him of--and--"
"And the worst of devils! That I can thoroughly endorse, my dear younglady," returned Cleek with a grim laugh. "I am sorry for you--very. Butat least you will have consolation in your future husband's release. Thatshould compensate you. Here, officer, take hold of this man. We'll getdown to brass tacks now. Take hold of him, and hold him fast, for a moreslippery snake never was created. All right, Sir Nigel; it is all right,lad. Sit down. This is going to be a long story, but it's got to be told.Fetch chairs for the witnesses, constable. And don't let any of 'emgo--yet. I want 'em to hear this thing through."
In his quick, easy manner he seemed suddenly to have taken command of thecourt. And, knowing that he was Hamilton Cleek, and that Cleek would usehis own methods, or none, Mr. Justice Grainger took the wisest course,and--let him alone.
When all was in readiness, Cleek settled down to the story. He was theonly man left standing, a straight slim figure, full of that controlledpower and energy that is so often possessed by a small but perfectmachine. He bowed to the judge with something of the theatrical in hismanner, and then rested one hand upon the clerk's table.
"Now, naturally, you are wanting to hear the story," he said briskly,"and I'll make it as brief as possible. But I warn you there's a gooddeal to be told, and afterward there'll be work for Scotland Yard, morework than perhaps they'll care about; but that is another story. To beginwith, the jury, my lord, was undoubtedly, from all signs, about toconvict the prisoner upon a charge of murder--a murder of which he wasentirely innocent. You have heard Merriton's story. Believe me, everyword of it is true--circumstantial evidence to the contrarynotwithstanding.
"In the first place, Dacre Wynne was shot through the temple at theinstigation of that man there," he pointed to Brellier, standing pale andstill between two constables, "foully shot, as many others had beensimilarly done to death, because they had ventured forth across the Fensat night, and were likely to investigate this man's charming littlemidnight movements, further than he cared about. To creatures of his likehuman life is nothing compared to what it can produce. Men and women area means to an end, and that end, the furtherance of his own wealth, hisown future. The epitome of prehistoric selfishness, is it not? Club thenext man that comes along, and steal from his dead body all that he hasworked for. Oh, a pretty sort of a tale this is, I promise you!
"What's that, my lord? What has the Frozen Flame to do with all this?Why, the answer to that is as simple as A.B.C. The Frozen Flames, or thatmost natural of phenomena, marsh-gas--of which I won't weary you with anexplanation--arose from that part of the Fens where the rottingvegetation was at its worst. What more natural, then, than that thishuman fiend should endeavour to shape even this thing to his own ends?The villagers had always been superstitious of these lights, but theirnotice had never been particularly called to them before the story of theFrozen Flames had been carefully spread from mouth to mouth by Brellier'stools.
"Then one man, braver than the rest, ventured forth--and never came back.The story gained credence, even with the more educated few. Another,unwilling to conform to public opinion, did likewise. And he, too, wentinto the great unknown. The list of Brellier's victims--supposed, ofcourse, to be burnt up by the Frozen Flames--grew fairly lengthy in thefour years that he has been using them as a screen for his underhandedwork. A guard--and I've seen one of the men myself during a littlemidnight encounter that I had with him--went wandering over that part ofthe district armed with a revolver. The first sight of a stranger causedhim to use his weapon. Meanwhile, behind the screen of the lights thebank robbers were bringing in their gold by motor and hiding the sacksdown in a network of underground passageways that I also discovered--andtraversed. They ran, by devious ways, both to a field in Saltfleetconveniently near the factory, and by another route up to the backkitchen of Merriton Towers.
"You'll admit that, when I discovered this to be the case, I felt prettyuneasy about Sir Nigel's innocence. But a still further search brought tolight another passage, which ran straight into the study of WithersbyHall, occupied by the Brelliers, and was hidden under the square rug infront of the fireplace. A nice convenient little spot for our friend hereto carry on his good work. Just a few words to say that he didn't want tobe disturbed in his study, a locked door, a rug moved, and--there youare! He was free from all prying eyes to investigate the way things weregoing, and to personally supervise the hiding of the gold. While outsideupon the Fens men were being killed like rats, because one or two of themchose to use their intelligence, and wanted to find out what the flamesreally were. They found out all right, poor devils, and their widowswaited for them in vain.
"And what does he do with all this gold, you ask? Why, ship it, by usingan electrical factory where he makes tubings and fittings--and a gooddeal of mischief, to boot. The sovereigns are hidden as you have seen,and are shipped out at night in fishing boats, loaded below the watermark--I've helped with the loading myself, so I know--_en route_ forBelgium, where his equally creditable brother, Adolph, receives thetubes and invariably ships them back as being of the wrong gauge. Lookhere--" He stopped speaking for a moment and, stepping forward, lifted upanother tubing from the table, and unfastened it at one of the joints.Then he held it up for all to see.
"See that stuff in there? That's tungsten. Perhaps you don't all knowwhat tungsten is. Well, it's a valuable commodity that is mined from theearth, and which is used expressly in the making of electric lamps. Our
good friend Adolph, like his brother, has the same twist of brain.Instead of keeping the tubes, he returns them with the rather thin excusethat they are of the wrong gauge, and fills them with this tungsten, fromthe famous tungsten mines for which Belgium holds first place in theworld. And so the stuff is shipped in absolutely free of duty, while ourfriend here unloads it, supplies the raw material to one or two firms intown, trading under the name of Jonathan Brent (you see I've got thewhole facts, Brellier), and uses some himself for this factory, which isthe 'blind' for his other trading ideas. Very clever, isn't it?"
The judge nodded.
"I thought you would agree so, my Lord. Even crime can have its cleverside, and more often than not the criminal brain is the cleverest whichthe world produces.
"Where was I? Ah, yes! The shipping of the stuff to Belgium. You see,Brellier's clever there. He knows that the sudden appearance of allthis gold at his own bank would arouse suspicions, especially as therobberies have been so frequent, so he determines that it is safer out ofthe country, and as the exchange of British gold is high, he makes moneythat way. Turns his hand to everything, in fact." He laughed. "But nowwe're turning our hands to _him_, and the Law will have its toll, pennyfor penny, life for life. You've come to the end of _your_ resources,Brellier, when you engaged those two strange workmen. Or, better still,your accomplice did it for you. You didn't know they were Cleek and hisman, did you? You didn't know that on that second night after we'd workedthere at the factory for you, we investigated that secret passage in thefield outside Saltfleet Road? You didn't know that while you walked downthat passage in the darkness with your man Jim Dobbs--or 'Dirty Jim,' togive him the sobriquet by which he is known among your employees--thatwe were hidden against the wall opposite to that first little nichewhere the bags of sovereigns stood, and that--though I hadn't seenyou--something in your voice struck a note of familiarity in my memory?You didn't know that, then? Well, perhaps it's just as well, because Imight not be here now to tell this story, and to hand you over tojustice."