CHAPTER V
THE THREADS OF CHANCE
It had just gone nine o'clock on that same eventful evening when thelimousine slowed down before Scotland Yard, and the car was handed overto its natural owners. Superintendent Narkom, Cleek learned to hisextreme relief, was engaged on a special case involving his working atthe Yard to a late hour. In the fraction of a second Cleek was ascendingthe stone staircase and traversing the corridor, at the end of which laythe private room of his friend and ally. He still felt that all was notas it should be at Cheyne Court, and even though he was unable to doanything at the moment, yet he felt he must pour the story of hisadventure into the trained and sympathetic ears of the man with whom hehad worked so long and so faithfully. It could not have been more than aminute, but the time seemed endless till he at length, after apreliminary tap, threw open the door of the room and saw the figure ofMr. Narkom ensconced in his arm-chair, his brows knitted, and his handsclenched over a sheet of paper lying on the desk before him. He lookedup irritably at the evidently unwelcome intrusion.
"Now, what the----" he began. Then as he caught sight of the intruder,he leaped from his seat and fairly hurled himself on Cleek.
"Cleek!" he shouted. "Cleek, the very man I was praying for! Come alongin and lock the door behind you so we can't be disturbed."
Cleek obeyed, smiling a little. He was always willing and eager to givehis help to the Yard, and the very fact that Mr. Maverick Narkom soplainly depended on him lent still further zest to his willingness.
"Hello," he said lightly, "you look fairly dazed, Mr. Narkom. What's inthe wind? It's a case, of course. And a jewel case at that," he added.
"Cinnamon! Cleek," stuttered the Superintendent, falling limply into hislately vacated chair. "How the dickens did you know, or are you----"
"In league with the Evil One himself, eh?" finished Cleek, the queer,one-sided smile travelling over his face. "No, it's quite simple, mydear fellow. At your side you have a book, 'Famous Stones and TheirHistory.' In front of you is a lapidary's glass. Clearly you have beenexamining stones of some kind, real or artificial, see?"
"Yes, I do see," muttered Mr. Narkom. "And you're right Cleek, devilishright. It _is_ a jewel theft. As a matter of fact, it's a series ofthefts, all by the same gang, and Heaven alone knows how or from wherethey operate."
"Oho!" said Cleek, with a strong rising inflection. "A gang, eh? Now Iwonder if I know. There's the French gang, headed by our old friendMargot; the Viennese gang, by Mr. Von Henri, and the Lambeth Walk gangthat have called themselves the Pentacle Club----"
"That's the set. But how you knew beats me! Petrie and Hammond will haveit they are at the bottom of these cases. There have been one after theother, jewels stolen from travellers at railway stations, jewels fromshops, jewels at balls. There is a constant inrush of fresh cases, and Iam almost beside myself with anxiety. In two instances, in fact, murderhas been done, and the body found marked with a kind of six-pointedstar."
Cleek's voice went up, and his brows came down. "Star, you say," heejaculated rapidly. "_Star?_ As you know, my friend, the Pentacle is astar formed by two equilateral triangles intersecting so as to form asix-pointed star. Properly it should be a five-pointed object, from theGreek pente, five, like a pentagram, or pentagon, but as applied to amagical figure it is probably a corruption of _pendre_, to hang, andthat is a very appropriate sign for our friends to have chosen. Thisgang, too, if I remember rightly, used to be led by a man known as SnakyJim, though I believe James Blake was his real name. At any rate, thatwas the name under which he served time. All this is by the way, so nowyou give me such facts as you have to hand, and you may be sure you canrely upon my doing my best to help you."
"Well, it will certainly be a hanging matter this time if we catch theculprit, for when it comes to committing murder in broad daylight withinan ace of Bond Street Police Station itself, it is a bit too thick. Whyany one should have murdered a harmless old theatrical wardrobe keeperin Drury Lane anyway, just beats me."
"What's that?" said Cleek. "Do you mean to tell me that a personattached to the theatre has been killed? Or--no--no, let me see, aseller of second-hand clothes is a wardrobe keeper, is he not?"
"Yes," responded Mr. Narkom, "it was my mistake, though in this case itwas a woman. As I said before, what they wanted to kill the old dame foris past comprehension. There wasn't an article worth ten shillings inthe place and yet they took the trouble, to say nothing of the risk, ofcarrying off all the old wigs and gowns that the shop contained. It wasa regular clean sweep I'm told."
Cleek sat up suddenly. "What's that? Murdered an old woman for the sakeof a few 'old clo'? Why, Mr. Narkom, the thieves must have been mad.When did this peculiar outrage take place; at what time; and when? Butperhaps you don't know."
"As it happens, I do," said Mr. Narkom, answering the latter part of hisally's question, "for I happened to be visiting Bond Street when thepoliceman on point duty brought the case in. The woman, Madame Elise shecalled herself, though in reality she was as Irish as a Dublin-bornwoman can be and spoke with a brogue that you could cut with a knife,had lived in this little court in the lane, and carried on business fornearly ten years. She was known, I believe, to be a tough customer as weunderstand the term, but no crook. No 'Fence' business; just the buyingand selling of old clothes, and mostly theatrical ones. Well, accordingto the old crony who lodged with her, she hadn't a friend or relative inthe world, and such money as she made went to keep a cot at St. Thomas'sHospital in memory of her son who died as a baby. Poor old soul.
"Well, according to Mrs. Malone, who goes out for the day, Madame, asthey call her, had an appointment with some man who wanted to fit up asmall touring company and needed clothes. He particularly mentioned a'makeup' for an old woman."
Cleek twitched up his eyebrows. "How did Mrs. Malone know that?" heasked.
"She says Mrs. McBride, to give Madame her real name, told her so, andat the same time, said she didn't expect the deal to come off, for shewasn't going to lower her price, not if she died for it----"
"H'm," said Cleek, rubbing his chin softly with his forefinger, "and shedid 'die for it,' poor soul. That looks suspicious. Did she alreadysuspect her customer of sinister designs?"
"Goodness knows! All we know is that a man was seen to go in----"
"By whom?" interposed Cleek swiftly.
"Several people, but the one most likely to be certain is the crippledpaper-boy who has a stand opposite the shop. He says a man went in,stayed ever so long, and came out finally with a big bag. He then strodeoff up in the direction of Wellington Street."
"H'm, like looking for a needle in a haystack to find _him_," threw inCleek with a little gesture of despair. "And when was the murderdiscovered, may I ask?"
"Not until a couple of hours later, I believe, when Mrs. Malone returnedand came screeching out of the house with the news that Madame wasmurdered, having been stabbed to the heart with a dagger. That's all Iknow up to the present. But that's the case in a nutshell, Cleek."
"H'm, and a pretty tough nut to crack," threw in Cleek with a littlelaugh. "If it is not too late I wouldn't mind viewing the body to-night,if you don't mind. Unless----"
"Only too thankful," responded Mr. Narkom, jumping to his feet withalacrity. "For what with these jewel thefts and now this murder, I amalmost beside myself with worry. Going to make any 'alterations' in yourappearance?"
"Yes. Give me a moment and I'll be ready."
"Thanks, Cleek. I knew I could rely upon you! I don't believe you needbother about a disguise, though. It's as dark as pitch and there'snobody now to see whether Cleek of Scotland Yard is still in the land ofthe living or not."
The curious one-sided smile so characteristic of the man looped up thecorner of Cleek's mouth; his features seemed to writhe; and a strange,indescribable change came over them as he made use of his peculiarbirth-gift. An instant later the only likeness which remained of thedapper Lieutenant who had entered the room was his clothing, for thebovi
ne, stupid face above the Lieutenant's collar was the face ofGeorge Headland who stood blinking and grinning into theSuperintendent's amazed and delighted countenance.
"I do not think it will matter at all," Cleek said as he smiled into Mr.Narkom's eyes. "But it's as well to be careful. And Mr. George Headlandis good enough to take chances on. Come along."
Mr. Narkom "came along" forthwith and it was not until they were safelyseated in the limousine and heading swiftly for the purlieus of DruryLane, that Cleek spoke of his doings.
"I only hope the old-clothes woman has come to life again, like mycorpse did this evening," he said with just a tinge of whimsical humouras he remembered the incidents through which he had just passed.
Mr. Narkom stared at him in natural astonishment and Cleek proceeded torelate his adventures of the night, with the utmost detail, from themoment when the shot attracted his attention outside Cheyne Court, downto that when the ghastly discovery was made by him in the dustyballroom.
"You are absolutely sure the woman was dead?" said Mr. Narkom, moppinghis head with a silk handkerchief.
"Quite sure. I have seen death too many times not to recognize itspresence immediately, my friend. No, that woman was dead right enough,but as to whether she was in reality Miss Cheyne, or whether it wasMiss Cheyne who drove us out of the house an hour later, is quiteanother matter. The thing is not supernatural, it is simply a trick.Once, in the old days that lie behind, when I was amongst those who arehunted, in the old 'vanishing cracksman' days, I saw Margot play asimilar trick. Even in that time of the 'Kid Crawl,' I employed asimilar method to achieve a coup which would otherwise have ended badlyenough."
"Margot," repeated Narkom. "Yes, I wonder if it was she and what herobject was, but even if we knew it would not help us. Besides, she wouldhave recognized you."
"Oh, no, my friend," replied Cleek, with one of his curious smiles. "Ido not think any living being would recognize me, unless I wished themto. I can assure you, and I think I should know, that it was not Margot.As to an object, that is another matter. Do not forget the fact that thejewels belonging to the house of Cheyne are historic, and worth untoldwealth. All are or will be shortly in the power of the poor little girlI drove home and who stands a very good chance of being the target ofevery jewel thief in Europe. Still, I don't suppose any one would beallowed to remove them without there being first-class evidence as totheir identity. That is where the mystery lies. It is a pity we do notknow the family lawyers, or we could put them on their guard."
Mr. Narkom looked up with a little start. "That's strange, now you cometo think of it, for as it happens I do know them--they are Shallcott,Woodward & Company of Lincoln's Inn, and I came up to town this morningwith old Mr. Shallcott. He's a precise old soul, and I don't fancythere's any chance of their playing any tricks on him. He was telling meabout a young client of his who comes into her kingdom of jewels in aweek or so's time. He did not mention any names, but in the light ofwhat you say, it must be this very same lady. Perhaps you would like tosee him for yourself, old chap, and if I can get off I will see into thematter of that dead body without fail. I will issue a search warrant ifyou like. That is, if it'll be any good to you, with your amazingmethods!"
"You never can tell, as the old woman said when she married for thefifth time, and a search warrant is a search warrant when necessityarises. I'll have it, my friend."
Mr. Narkom nodded. Then he looked out of the window of the limousine andbeckoned to Lennard to stop.
"Here we are," said he, "and I promise you poor Madame will be deadenough!"
Dead she certainly was, and the cause of death was only too plain. Thepoor soul had been stabbed straight to the heart as she had stoodbargaining over her own counter. Cleek gave a little sigh as he turnedaway from the gruesome sight. Except for the fact that every wig andarticle of woman's clothing had been removed, there was no evidence ofany robbery in the shop. It looked likely to prove one of those plain,straightforward cases that end simply in the verdict of murder againstsome person or persons unknown.
He was about to follow Mr. Narkom when his eye caught sight of an old,faded daguerreotype photo standing on the mantelshelf. It was no lessthan a photo of the Honourable Miss Cheyne, in a red dress and herunique rings and at the bottom of it was inscribed, "Elsie McBride fromher mistress, Marion Cheyne."