abraham letchowiski stood in the doorway of his small but brilliantly lit shop in one of the broad thoroughfares leading out of the mile end road, and beamed upon the saturday night passers-by. he was, in his way, a picturesque looking object—patriarchal, almost biblical. he wore a long, rusty-black frock-coat, from which the buttons had long since departed, but which hung in straight lines about his tall, spare form. his dishevelled grey beard reached to the third button of his waistcoat. his horn-rimmed spectacles were pushed back to his forehead. every now and then he harangued a likely-looking couple in mild and persuasive accents.
"young shentleman, shtop von minute. bring the beautiful young lady inside. i am selling sheap to-night, very very sheap. young shentleman, you want a real diamond ring? i have the sheapest diamond rings in the vorld. i am letchowiski, the gem merchant. you bring your moniesh to me. you get better value than anyvere in vitechapel or the vest end. come inside, my tears."
a few of the passers-by answered him with chaff. one or two of the more forward of the girls threw him a kiss. old father letchowiski on a saturday night was a familiar feature of the dingy marketing thoroughfare, but to-night more than one fancied that his heart was not in it. presently, during a lull, he turned back into his shop, fingered lovingly a few of his wares, gewgaws of the most glaring description, and then turned to a small boy who stood behind the counter, a remarkable, cross-eyed youth, standing little higher than the counter, with black hair, a narrow face and sallow complexion.
"david, you call me the moment anyone puts their head in the shop. you hear? call loudly."
"all right, granfer," the boy replied. "can i go to the door and shout at them?"
"if you like," the old gentleman agreed tolerantly. "if you sell anything, perhaps i give you a little commission."
a beatific smile spread over the boy's face as he scrambled under the counter. abraham letchowiski opened a door which led into the rear of the premises, drew aside the curtain and peered for a moment back again through the shop into the street, over the head of the small boy, who with outstretched hands was making the night hideous with cries of fervid invitation. then he dropped the curtain, descended two stairs, passed through a small, ill-ventilated sitting-room, the table of which was laid for a homely meal, on through another door, and along a dark passage. through a further door at the end came a chink of brilliant light. he knocked twice softly and stepped inside. a man with a tired, livid face, his clothing covered by a long smock, heavy spectacles disfiguring his features, was stooping over a tiny lathe. the soft whir of a dynamo from a corner purred insistently. a brilliant droplight from the ceiling was lowered almost over the bench. something glittered in the white hands of the workman as he turned around with a little start.
"letchowiski!" he muttered. "well?"
"finish for to-night," letchowiski whispered imploringly. "all the evening i have been uneasy. just now i stand in my doorway and i shout my wares and my eyes search. there is a man in the clothing shop opposite. he pretends to deal with hyam for a suit, but i see him often with his eyes turned this way. he is like the man of whom you have told me—the man brodie."
the artificer did not hesitate for a moment. he looked in the mirror opposite to him and straightened a little more naturally the coal black hair which only an artist could have arranged. with his foot he stopped the dynamo. from a cupboard opposite to him he brought out a dozen cheap watches and spread them around. one of these he proceeded with neat fingers to take to pieces.
"it is well to be careful, abraham letchowiski," he agreed softly. "go back to the shop. is supper ready?"
"there is a little cold fish upon the table," letchowiski replied. "it is useless to wait for rosa. we will sit down, you and i, when you wish."
a faint flicker of disgust crossed the face of the listener. he watched the disappearing figure of the old man. then he half closed his eyes.
"it is the end," he reminded himself softly. "all that remains is to get away."
mr. harvey grimm took off his overalls and looked at himself carefully in the glass. he was wearing a well-worn blue serge suit, a flannel shirt and collar, a faded wisp of blue tie. his black hair was plastered down on to his forehead, ending on one side in a little curl, after the fashion of the neighbourhood. the man was so consummate an actor that his very cast of features seemed to have assumed a semitic aspect. he readjusted his spectacles, busied himself at the bench for a few more minutes, covered over the dynamo, and finally made his way stealthily into the shop. he paused for a moment with his hand upon the counter, listening to the old man who stood in the doorway. his fingers played with a tray of atrocious-looking pieces of cut-glass, set in common brass. abraham letchowiski, in one of his pauses for breath, glanced around and saw him.
"you have finished?" he asked eagerly.
"finished," was the quiet reply. "let us eat together."
the jeweller abandoned his place, which was promptly taken by the small boy.
"you go and have your supper, granfer," he begged. "i do some good business."
"aren't you hungry?" the old man asked affectionately.
the small boy shook his head.
"i rather stay here and do business," he declared. "young shentleman went by just now wants diamond ring to give to the lady. he promised to come back."
they left him standing upon the threshold, eager and expectant, and took their places in the musty little room before the fragment of cold fish, at which harvey grimm glanced for a moment in disgust. they had barely settled down before the door was thrown vigorously open. a tall, dark young woman, dressed in all the finery of the neighbourhood, swung into the room. she held out her cheek to her grandfather, but her bold black eyes rested upon harvey grimm.
"what a supper!" she exclaimed scornfully. "and after i've been away for nearly ten days, too! you don't expect me to eat this, do you?"
"sit down, my dear, and take a little," the old man begged nervously. "if i had been sure that you had been coming—but we are never sure of you, rosa. we expected you last saturday, but you never came."
"pooh! that is your own look-out," the girl declared. "you are rolling in money, grandfather, and you live like a pauper. i wonder your young men stay," she added, showing a row of white teeth as she beamed upon harvey grimm. "i'm sure i shouldn't, unless you treated me better than this."
"if you like, my dear," abraham letchowiski suggested, "i will go out and buy some fruit."
she pushed him back in his place.
"sit still," she ordered. "i will eat with you what there is. afterwards we will see."
they proceeded with their very scanty meal. the girl talked loudly about her situation in the great tailoring establishment, dwelt on the fact that she had just been made forewoman over one of the departments, invited their admiration of the cut of her skirt, standing boldly up, with her arms akimbo, to display the better the allurements of her luxurious figure, her eyes flashing provocatively the whole of the time. harvey grimm, who had been at first silent and unresponsive, seemed suddenly to fall a victim to her charms. he met her more than half-way in the flirtation which she so obviously desired. they were seated arm in arm, whispering together, his lips very close to her flushed cheek, when the little door leading to the shop was suddenly opened. paul brodie stood there, looking down upon them, and behind him another man, also in plain clothes.
there was a brief and somewhat curious silence. the two new-comers seemed content with a close scrutiny of the dingy, odoriferous apartment. it was abraham letchowiski who first spoke. he rose to his feet and leaned over the table. the hand which lowered his spectacles on to his nose was shaking.
"vat you vant here?" he demanded.
"sorry to disturb you, sir," brodie said pleasantly, bowing towards rosa. "we want to search your premises. don't be alarmed. unless you have something to conceal we shall do you no harm, and we'll take care of all your treasures."
"but who are you, then?" the old man persisted. "vy should you search my premises? i have done nothing wrong. i have lived honest always."
"that's all right," brodie declared soothingly. "we ain't going to hurt you any."
"you know me, mr. letchowiski," the other man observed. "my name's bone—john bone. i am the detective attached to the police-station around the corner. we won't worry you any more than we're obliged to, but on this gentleman's information we are bound just to have a look round."
"but my pizness—it' will be ruined!" abraham letchowiski cried, wringing his hands. "if my customers know, they will never believe again that i am an honest man. i shall be ruined! they will come no more near my shop!"
"nothing of the sort," the detective assured him. "i have only left one man outside and he is in plain clothes. we can search this room and the bedroom and your workshop, without attracting anyone's attention. come, mr. letchowiski, you and i know one another."
the old man was still vociferous in his expressions of dismay.
"i am seventy-three years old," he moaned. "i have never been in trouble. i am honest, just as honest as a man can be."
"then keep your hands exactly as they are now," brodie told him. "so!"
with the ease of experience he ran his fingers over the old man's clothing, searching him from head to foot.
"well, i never!" rosa exclaimed, her eyes flashing angrily. "fancy treating an old man like that! is anyone going to try to do it to me, i should like to know? they'll feel my fingernails, if they do."
"it will not be necessary," john bone replied politely. "we watched you enter."
"what you looking for?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her anger.
"ah!" the detective murmured. "is this your assistant, mr. letchowiski?" he went on.
harvey grimm rose slowly to his feet and held out his hands.
"i am not an assistant of anybody's," he declared, and his voice seemed to have undergone an extraordinary change. "my name is ed. levy, and i am a skilled watchmaker."
john bone searched him briefly from head to foot. all the while, brodie was going round the apartment. cupboards were peered into, ornaments turned upside down, the boards and walls tapped, every possible hiding-place ransacked. john bone disappeared for a few minutes up the stairs, and they heard his heavy tramp in the bedroom above. as soon as he had returned, the two men made their way towards the inner door.
"come with us down to the workshop, abraham letchowiski," the detective invited.
"vot you want me for?" the old man asked querulously.
"never mind. come along with us. we may have questions to ask."
they disappeared, the old jeweller groaning in the rear. as they passed through the door, paul brodie glanced for a moment back. the young man, who had called himself ed. levy, had passed his arm once more through rosa's. their faces were close together. an amorous grin had parted the young man's lips and he was whispering in the girl's ear. brodie smiled at his half-conceived suspicion, as he turned away. rosa and her grandfather's assistant were left alone.
"what you think?" she asked him. "has grandfather been doing anything, eh?"
"not he," was the confident reply. "abraham letchowiski is too old and too clever to run such risks at his time of life. besides, he has plenty of money."
rosa assented. she was apparently convinced of her grandfather's probity.
"you're right," she declared. "he has got plenty of money, and no one to leave it to except david and me. a nice dowry for me, eh?"
"lucky girl!" harvey grimm sighed.
"these young men—they know it," she went on. "there's mr. hyam, from opposite, and the two solomons. but i don't like them—they're too clumsy. i like you."
he held her hand tighter. she presented for his examination her fingers, exposing a very large and brilliant ring and a massive gold bracelet.
"i love jewellery," she confided. "isn't that beautiful? some day you give me a ring, eh, and i wear it—which finger you like me to wear it on?"
"some day," he promised, "when i am earning a little more, i will give you a jewel that will make all the girls in your workshop mad with envy."
"if you want to earn more money," she asked, "why do you work for grandfather? all the young men make jokes about him. he never pays anyone half what they are worth."
harvey grimm nodded mysteriously.
"you wait," he told her. "i never stay long anywhere. i am a journeyman repairer. i earn more money that way. i have about finished here now."
"to-night," the girl whispered, "you take me to a cinema palace. there's a fine one at the corner of the street. if you like," she added with a sigh, "i pay for my own seat."
he hesitated for a moment. then he smiled.
"we will start directly these men have gone," he promised, "and i will pay for both."
"that is better," she acquiesced, with an air of relief. "it is always better for the gentleman to pay. tell me," she went on, a little abruptly, "what do they look for, these men? they are a long time in the workshop."
"it is always the same," he told her. "wherever i go, i find it. there are always robberies, day by day, up in the west end, and they think there is nowhere else the stones can be brought and sold but in this neighbourhood. every little jeweller's shop from here to the far end of the mile end road is ransacked. this is the second time they have visited us."
"then they are very foolish people," rosa declared. "grandfather wouldn't buy anything that was stolen. he is too nervous. he has no courage. yet," she went on thoughtfully, "if he is really as rich as they say he is, one wonders how he makes it all out of this poky little shop."
harvey grimm nodded his head many times in wise fashion.
"a very clever man, abraham letchowiski," he declared. "oh, i know many things! those brooches he sells hundreds of at a shilling each—they cost one halfpenny. the engagement rings with the rubies or sapphires—you take your choice—nine shillings he charges for those, tenpence halfpenny they cost him. money comes soon when one can persuade people to buy. then he lends money everywhere, when it is safe. many of these tradespeople in the street owe him money. hush! they are coming back. after the cinema, perhaps, we have a little supper together, eh?"
she hugged his arm affectionately, which was precisely what he meant her to do. the entrance of the three men found them engaged in amorous whisperings. brodie scarcely glanced in their direction. he was frowning sullenly.
"just a few minutes in the shop, mr. letchowiski," the detective said, "and we'll move on and leave you in peace."
they passed up the two steps and through the little door, which they closed behind them. harvey grimm for a moment seemed to forget his companion. he rose to his feet and stealthily crept to the curtained window. he stood there, peering through a chink into the shop. it was becoming difficult now to retain that wonderful composure. the hand which had stolen into his trousers pocket was tightly clenched upon a small, hard object.
"why do you watch there?" rosa demanded petulantly. "come back to me. grandfather will be here directly."
her new admirer made no reply. his eyes were riveted upon paul brodie, who held in his hands the little tray, piled with abominable gewgaws. presently he set it down again upon the counter. harvey grimm bit his lip until the blood came.
"why do you bother about those stupid men?" she protested. "come back here, or i shall come to you."
he heard her rise with a great rustle. he felt the odour of patchouli and cheap sachets about him. she crept to his side just as the shop door opened and the two men went out. then he turned and kissed her full on the red, pouting lips. she giggled hysterically for her grandfather had just pushed open the curtained door and was standing looking down upon them. he stamped his foot, shook his head and raised his hands.
"you kiss my granddaughter—you?" he cried.
harvey grimm held out his finger. the old man suddenly stopped. he crossed the room towards his high-backed chair and sank back with a little sigh of relief.
"i am too old for excitement like this," he mumbled. "i am getting very old."
rosa turned towards him.
"mr. levy is going to take me to a picture palace, grandfather," she announced. "would you like me to call and ask mr. hyam to come across and sit with you?"
the old man shook his head.
"no, no!" he replied. "it would mean coffee for two and i have no money. you go to the cinema with mr. levy and enjoy yourself, my dear. these men have terrified me. i am old—too old. i shall go to deucher's and get some coffee by myself. come and get your supper," he cried through the open door to the boy. "i will come into the shop for a little time."
the boy came reluctantly from behind the counter and pushed past his cousin and her escort into the sitting-room. rosa turned back to speak to him for a minute and harvey grimm was alone in the shop. he stretched out his hand towards the tray of gewgaws, and a little shower of its contents slipped into his overcoat pocket. presently rosa reappeared, drawing on her gloves.
"we go now," she declared. "walk slowly out of the shop. i like mr. hyam to see us, from opposite. he is always bothering me to go out with him. i like you best. there! this way."
they made a very deliberate progress along the crowded street until they reached the cinema palace. harvey grimm paid for sixpenny seats, and sat arm in arm with rosa in an atmosphere which seemed to reek of fried fish, rank tobacco smoke and cheap scent. his left hand held her purposely ungloved fingers inside her muff. his right hand toyed with forty thousand pounds' worth of diamonds thrust into common settings which sometimes pricked his fingers. when the performance was over they left, still arm in arm.
"rosa," he announced, "to-night i give you a treat. i tell you a secret as well. i am leaving your grandfather's. i have a much better place. i have saved money, too."
she clung to him in unrestrained affection.
"how much?" she whispered.
"never mind," he replied. "maybe three hundred pounds, maybe more. to-night i have the spending fit upon me. we take a taxicab and we drive together up west. i give you some supper at the monico."
she drew a little breath of delight. suddenly she was serious.
"let us go by the tube," she suggested. "we shall save three shillings towards the supper. you can buy me a bottle of scent with that."
he laughed and handed her into the taxicab which he had already hailed, directed the man to drive to the monico and stepped in by her side.
"i can buy you a bottle of scent all right," he assured her, "and in here, don't you see, we are quite alone, rosa. in the restaurant there will be people."
"we might have had the taxicab home," she sighed, her head upon his shoulder.
"listen," he explained, "after supper i pay for your taxicab, if you will, but i must leave you. i have to see a man on business at half-past eleven. it is my new employer."
for a moment she drew away and looked at him doubtfully.
"on business at half-past eleven?" she repeated. "what is your business? are you an honest man, ed. levy, eh?"
"i am as honest as your grandfather," he answered, "and listen, i am clever. i can make money—make it quickly."
she sat a little closer to him and with her own fingers drew his arm around her waist.
"shall we be married soon?" she whispered. "grandfather must die some day soon, and there's no one knows how much money he's got. david and i will have it all."
"we'll talk about that," harvey grimm promised.
at a few minutes after twelve on the following morning, harvey grimm, very spruce and very debonair, pushed open the swing-doors of the small smoking-room of the milan, and crossed the room with the obvious intention of proceeding towards the bar. a little welcoming chorus assailed him from a circular lounge in the right-hand corner of the room. seated there were four of his friends whom at first he scarcely recognised. there was aaron rodd with his arm in a sling, a piece of sticking-plaster on his forehead and a thick stick by his side; the poet, with a bandaged head and a shade over his eye; henriette, looking a little fragile but very animated; and her brother, still in uniform, leaning back in an easy chair by her side. harvey grimm stared at them all in blank and ever-increasing astonishment.
"has there been an earthquake?" he asked, as he shook hands and exchanged greetings with everybody, "or have i, in my country seclusion, missed a scrap?"
"you have missed the scrap of your life," cresswell replied eagerly. "you have saved your skin at the expense of untold glory."
"tell me about it," the new-comer begged, as he took his place in the little circle.
"where can one find words?" the poet began expansively. "it was an homeric sight, a battle royal! it took place in the darkness, upon a slippery wooden wharf, with the black waters of the river beneath, and murderous parasites assailing us on every side. it was an epic of biffing, the glorious triumph of the unfit over the river-side apache. and let me tell you this, my friend harvey—for an untrained fighter the world doesn't hold a man who can hit so quickly and so hard as our newly established hero, mr. aaron rodd. i have decided that he has earned immortality. i am composing a poem which i shall dedicate to him."
"could i hear what it was all about?" harvey grimm asked meekly.
"me," henrietta sighed.
then they told their story, all of them in turn, except brinnen, supplying details. towards the end, however, the poet took up the running and finished alone.
"his face," the latter declared, gripping aaron rodd by the arm, "was like a pastel in white chalk against the soft background of velvety blackness. heaven lit the burning light in his eyes. the swing of his right arm was like the pendulum of fate——"
"oh, keep this rot for the poem!" aaron rodd interrupted forcibly. "if you want to gas, what about your own swim to the river police-station?"
"a series of truly homeric episodes," the poet assented, with a gentle sigh. "my pen shall give them immortality. i shall not forget to allude to the part which i, too, played in this drama of fog and river. the water was very cold," he added, suddenly finishing his cocktail.
"and our friend from the country?" brinnen asked quietly. "how has he fared?"
there was a breathless silence. harvey grimm nodded slightly. he glanced around the room, of which they were the only occupants. both doors were closed.
"all is well," he announced softly. "i returned last night. the business is finished."
"how much?" brinnen enquired eagerly.
"there will be forty-five thousand pounds. i could not draw it all last night, but it will be paid within a week. i have nine thousand with me. six of that i will hand over at any moment you please."
"there is no one in the room," brinnen murmured suggestively.
harvey grimm drew out a pocket-book, ran some notes through his fingers, and passed them over to brinnen. once more the latter glanced around the room. then with his left hand he produced from the pocket of his coat a necklace of brilliants, one of which, the centre one, seemed to shine with a faint, rosy light.
"better see what you can do with that," he remarked, tossing it lightly across.
harvey grimm held the necklace for a moment in his fingers before he slipped it into the concealment of his pocket. during that moment he caught an impression of henriette's eyes, full of amazement, fixed upon it. she turned towards her brother.
"leopold," she exclaimed wonderingly, "i do not remember——"
he brushed her words aside.
"you have not seen all," he told her significantly.
harvey grimm rang the bell.
"i warn you," he said, "that it will be a few days before i can abandon civilisation again, even for a task like this."
brinnen moved uneasily in his chair.
"it is work, this," he pointed out, "which carries with it a special urgency. remember that its results will last for a lifetime."
"quite true," was the somewhat grudging admission. "it also means great risks. i have been as near the end of things, within the last twenty-four hours, as i care to be."
the waiter appeared with a tray full of cocktails. harvey grimm accepted his and leaned back in his chair with a beatific aspect.
"this," he murmured, "is one of the decadent luxuries denied to me in my country seclusion. like many other things in life, it is almost worth while to lose it for a time, for the sake——"
he broke off in his speech. they all leaned a little forward in their chairs. from a side door at the further end of the apartment, leading to the private suites in the hotel, a lift man suddenly appeared, with a valet upon his heels. they crossed the room with almost feverish haste. they were obviously distressed. a small boy followed, a moment or two later, with face as pale as death. there was a confused murmur of voices just outside the glass door leading to the main portion of the hotel, and a moment afterwards they reappeared with the manager between them, all talking excitedly at the same time. then the door opened once more and a woman, tall and dark, in a long dressing-gown of green silk, rushed in. she threw out her hands towards the manager.
"send for the police!" she cried. "my husband—he is murdered! ... and my jewels—they are all stolen! the police, do you hear?"
they all vanished through the distant door, the woman clinging to the manager's arm and talking excitedly all the time. the little party looked at one another.
"that was madame de borria, the wife of the south american millionaire," harvey grimm said slowly.
"the woman who wears the necklace with the rose diamond!" henriette exclaimed breathlessly.
then there was a queer, tense silence. captain brinnen lifted his glass to his lips and finished his cocktail.
"there is more than one rose diamond in the world," he observed coolly.
