the small boy assumed an air of vast importance. he leaned over the counter and with mysterious gestures arrested the progress of his cousin through the shop.
"rosa, i've got something to thay to you, motht important," he announced. "come right over here."
she paused and swung around a little unwillingly. her scarlet underlip was thrust outwards. she walked with her hand upon her hip, not averse to impressing even this young cousin of hers with all the allurements of her slipshod finery.
"i thay, rosa, you look fine," the boy declared admiringly. "lithen now. you told me to keep my eyes open, if ever i should see any more of mr. levy, eh?"
the girl's face was suddenly alight. she moved close to the counter.
"you've heard of him?" she exclaimed eagerly. "you know where he is?"
the boy nodded many times. he placed a finger upon his lips, in his eyes was the glint of avarice.
"you promithed me a shilling," he reminded her. "i worked hard. i know now just where he ith. you can see him for yourthelf. it's worth a shilling, rosa, eh?"
the girl's hand dived into the recesses of her half-fastened skirt. she produced a cheap purse of imitation russia leather and solemnly counted out a sixpence and six coppers.
"you tell me the truth," she adjured him, parting with the coins reluctantly.
"honest and sure," the boy promised, sweeping them into his pocket. "he came back again tuesday night. he's at work now in the repairing room."
"you little shark!" his cousin cried indignantly. "why, i should have found out myself if i'd gone straight in to grandfather."
"maybe and maybe not," he answered, with his finger upon his nose and his hand guarding the pocket where the shilling reposed.
the girl was breathing quickly with excitement. the loss of the shilling, after all, was a slight thing to a girl earning man's wages.
"listen," she enjoined, "don't you say i've been. i'm off back to tidy up. i shall be here in half an hour. he won't be gone by then."
"sure not," was the confident assent. "he brought his valise. he'th come to stop."
rosa almost tiptoed her way out of the shop, dived into the stream of people and disappeared. it was rather more than half an hour before her small cousin, with palms outstretched upon the counter, struggling to sell a one-and-sixpenny brooch to a girl who had a shilling to spend, glanced up and recognised her. his look of admiration was a genuine tribute. for a moment the glamour of the transaction upon which he was engaged, faded.
"my, rosa, you do look fine!" he exclaimed. "them clothes must have cost something!"
she nodded haughtily—a vision of cheap furs, with a black hat from which flared one great scarlet flower. she carried a bag of some jingling metal in her hand. her patent shoes squeaked loudly. she displayed at least twelve inches of silk-clad limbs, and she diffused little waves of a perfume carefully selected on account of its far-reaching qualities. the customer, who knew her by sight, gazed after her admiringly.
"that's your cousin rosa, isn't it?" she asked.
the small boy nodded, withdrawing his eyes from the disappearing figure with reluctance.
"it must be wonderful to earn enough money to dress like that," he observed enviously. "my, did you see those furs! ... the firtht ornament rosa ever bought from me wath one of these brooches," he went on, reverting to the subject in hand. "two shillings she paid, my dear, and eighteenpence i'm asking you, jutht because i like to do business when the old man ain't here. maybe you could pay the extra sixpence next saturday...."
rosa swept through the door and descended the two steps into the dingy sitting-room. in a high-backed chair drawn up to the scanty fire, his head a little on one side, sat her grandfather, asleep. she passed on tiptoe through the room, down the narrow passage, and softly turned the handle of the workshop door. the air was vibrating slightly with the monotonous hum of a concealed dynamo. bending low over the board, with huge magnifying glasses in his eyes, mr. levy, with a small, bright instrument in his hand, was absorbed in some delicate process of refashioning a little glittering mass, carefully held between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. some instinct told the girl to keep silence. she watched him breathlessly until the consciousness of her presence reached him through his finer senses. he raised his knife from its task and turned swiftly around, touched a knob with his foot and the dynamo gradually slackened speed and died away.
"you!" he exclaimed, removing the glasses from his eyes.
she saw the stone upon which he had been working transferred swiftly to his pocket. she was immensely curious. nevertheless, the personal element came first.
"you're a nice man, aren't you, eh?" she demanded, coming slowly towards him. "what about that little dinner we were going to have, eh, and a theatre? you just leave your place without a word of warning. i wonder grandfather took you back again."
"my dear young lady," he began.
"rosa!" she pouted.
"rosa, then," he went on, "pleasure is a great thing, but business is a greater. i have been away on business, the business i spoke to you of. now, you see, i am back again. the other place didn't suit me."
"and grandfather took you on without a word?"
"as you see."
"what is it you are working at?" she asked curiously. "i never knew you had a dynamo here, or that you needed one for watch repairing."
"it is an idea of my own," he told her. "you see, it isn't only watches but every article of jewellery we repair. it saves another assistant."
"what were you working at when i came in?" she persisted.
"a piece of glass, cutting it up into a few of those beautiful diamond brooches you see in the window," he explained. "but don't let's talk about the work. how well you look!"
she tossed her head.
"a lot you care about how well i look," she retorted, "going away like that with never a word!"
"by the by," he enquired suddenly, "how did you come in? where was your grandfather?"
"grandfather was asleep in the easy chair," she told him. "i came through on tiptoe. like to keep yourself private down here, don't you?"
"part of my training," he replied. "i can't work unless i am absolutely alone and undisturbed."
she leaned against his bench and raised her foot as though to look at the patent tip of her shoe. he was privileged to behold a goodly number of inches of silk-clad limb.
"what are you doing to-night," she asked, "after work?"
he shook his head disconsolately.
"your grandfather is a hard taskmaster," he grumbled. "i generally stick on here until i'm tired out."
"we'll see about that," she promised. "would you like ... oh, bother!" she broke off. "i promised to go to the pictures with stolly wykes."
her companion's faint sigh of regret was very cleverly assumed.
"perhaps another evening, then," he suggested.
"you're such a slippery customer," she went on, "here to-day and gone to-morrow sort of chap. i suppose i could put stolly off," she went on meditatively, raising her eyes and looking at him.
"i wouldn't do that," he protested. "i can't help thinking how disappointed i should be in his place."
"plenty of feeling for others you have, haven't you?" she observed sarcastically. "i don't know as i care about going out with stolly. he's always worrying me to get engaged."
"i've wondered more than once," he told her confidentially, "why you haven't been engaged long ago. how old are you? twenty?"
"i am twenty-two," she confessed, "and if i'm not engaged, it's because i haven't been over-anxious. i don't think much of these young fellows round here. i feel, somehow, as though i wanted something different."
he sighed sympathetically, and then, as though with an effort, turned back to his bench.
"if the old man wakes up and finds i'm not working," he remarked, "he'll be annoyed."
"you can get on with your work, then," she replied. "i'm going to talk to him for a minute or two. be good."
she gave him a little backward nod, enigmatically encouraging, and left him, closing the door softly behind her. she made her way into the stuffy little parlour and shook her grandfather by the shoulder.
"wake up, old man," she exhorted. "nice thing going to sleep over the fire in the middle of the afternoon!"
"eh, what—what, my dear?" he exclaimed, sitting up. "it's rosa, is it? ah! how beautiful you look, rosa! but those furs—were they very expensive, my dear?"
"they were rather," the girl admitted complacently, "but i'm earning good money and i want to get married."
"to get married, my dear," the old man repeated, a little vaguely. "well, well, you find some young man with good prospects, and money—money in his hand, mind——"
"i've found the young man i'd like to marry," rosa interrupted. "he's your assistant down there."
abraham letchowiski stretched out his hands in protest. he shook his head vigorously.
"no, no, my tear!" he cried. "you cannot marry him. he is just a journeyman repairer. he has no money saved. he spends too much on his clothes."
"he's a clever workman, isn't he?"
"oh, he is clever," the old man admitted, "very clever indeed, but there are many clever people in the world who have not much money."
"look here," the girl expostulated, "you're going to leave david and me your money, aren't you? you've no one else?"
"but i have not much," the old man whined, "and i may live quite some time yet."
"you're getting too old to work," the girl declared. "why not take him into partnership?"
"bartnership?" the old man shrieked. "ah, my tear, you do not understand!"
"i understand the way to deal with you, anyhow," rosa retorted. "you wait!"
she walked to the end of the passage and raised her voice.
"mr. levy, please to come here."
there was a smothered reply, and after a few moments he appeared.
abraham letchowiski, now thoroughly awake, sat in the chair, wringing his hands.
"rosa," he exclaimed, "i implore you! rosa! listen to me!"
she cut him short. she seemed, somehow, to dominate the little room—strong, forceful and determined.
"mr. levy," she announced, "grandfather has something to say to you. he makes such a muddle of things that, although it is rather embarrassing, i shall say it myself. david and i are his heirs. he has saved a great deal of money."
"no, no, my tear—no!" the old man interrupted tearfully.
"he has saved a great deal of money," she went on placidly. "he has no other relatives. he is always bothering me to get married. i tell him to-day that i have made up my mind. if you are willing, mr. levy, he will take you into partnership. we will see that little david is done fairly with. later on, when you grow older, he shall be your partner. now, grandfather, sit up and hear what mr. levy has to say."
for once in his life, harvey grimm was taken at a disadvantage. he stood speechless and hopelessly astounded. rosa held out her hands to him. before he knew exactly where he was, he was holding one of them.
"so that's all settled," the girl pronounced, drawing him closer to her. "now, grandfather, mr. levy—edward we must call him now—is going to leave off work at once. we are going out to supper and a cinema."
the old man suddenly struck the table with his clenched fist. there was a curious solemnity in his voice.
"i will not have it!" he cried, his eyes flashing. "all that you have spoken is foolish, rosa. i will not have this young man for my partner, nor shall you have him for your husband, even if he were willing."
"why not?" she demanded.
"because he is not of our faith," abraham letchowiski declared solemnly, "because his name is not levy. he is not one of us."
rosa was taken aback. she looked at her prospective suitor incredulously.
"is that true?" she asked him. "i don't care twopence whether you're a jew or not, but isn't your name levy?"
"it is not," he confessed.
"why don't you go about under your own name?"
there was a moment's silence. a sudden understanding leapt into the girl's face.
"wait," she cried—"the dynamo downstairs, and those men who came here to search! what is it you do in that back room, eh?"
there was still silence. she passed her arms suddenly through his.
"be sensible," she urged. "i am not a fool. i know that grandfather loves money and loves making it. so do i. if he lets you work secretly in his back room, it must be because you make money there. well, why not? you need have no fear of me. tell me the truth? i shall be faithful. i do not mind that you are not a jew. i will marry you all the same. i like you better than any of the jews i know."
harvey grimm wiped the perspiration from his forehead. it was a situation, this, for which no foresight could have provided.
"and i," abraham letchowiski thundered, "swear before the god of my fathers that you shall marry none but a jew!"
the girl made a face at him and dragged him back into his easy chair.
"don't you be a silly old man," she enjoined. "times have changed since you were young. a girl has to have a husband, doesn't she? you wouldn't have me marry any of those skimpers that come around here?"
a fit of coughing seized the old man and he was momentarily speechless.
she turned away from him.
"that's all right," she declared confidently. "he'll be reasonable by morning. you go and wash and get ready."
harvey grimm sighed mournfully. his wits were serving him at last, presenting a tardy possibility of escape.
"miss rosa," he said, "i haven't had the chance to say anything. you took me by surprise this afternoon. perhaps i ought to have told you when we first met, but i didn't. i am married."
she stood looking at him for a moment, her voluptuous red lips parted, her eyebrows contracting.
"married?" she exclaimed, a little hysterically. "you beast!"
"i can't help it," he apologised humbly. "i ought to have told you but i never thought. that is why i kept away before."
"i see," she murmured, with the air of one whose thoughts are far away.
abraham letchowiski sat up in his chair. he mopped his eyes with a yellow handkerchief.
"you see, my tear," he pointed out feverishly, "the young man is honest—he tells the truth. that is the end."
"is it!" the girl muttered. "perhaps! anyway, he is going to take me out this evening. your wife ain't here with you, is she?"
"no," he replied, "she is in america."
"go and get yourself ready, then."
harvey grimm meekly acquiesced, and devoted himself for the rest of the evening towards the entertainment of his companion. the girl's manner was a little queer. at the restaurant to which he took her—the best in the neighbourhood—she appeared to thoroughly enjoy the lavish meal which he provided. she even held his hand under the table and smiled many times into his eyes. she took his arm as they walked through the streets, but in the theatre, which she chose in preference to a cinema, she sat most of the time silent and absorbed. on the way home she clung to his arm. when they reached the little jeweller's shop, she paused.
"let me take you across to your rooms first," he suggested.
she shook her head.
"i want to find my handkerchief," she told him. "i must have left it in the parlour. open the door, please."
he obeyed her, and they stumbled through the darkened shop, down the steps, into the close, stuffy little apartment. the remains of the fire were smouldering upon the hearth, but the room was unlit. abraham letchowiski and the boy had long since gone to bed. suddenly she threw her arms around him.
"kiss me!" she cried, in a choked tone.
he yielded, struggling, however, against her vehement embrace. his hands gripped her shoulders. he wrenched himself free. he stood on the other side of the table, for a moment, panting. her eyes, luminous, shone through the darkness at him. then suddenly she swung round, climbed the two steps, passed through the shop and closed the door softly. almost immediately she reopened it. in the dim street light outside he could see the outline of her figure.
"thank you very much, mr. married man," she said, "for my evening."
he made no reply. there was a second's hesitation, a last opportunity, of which he declined to avail himself—then the door was closed. a few minutes later he locked it, went back to his workshop, and from a cupboard drew out a whisky bottle and some soda.
"here's a cursed mess!" he muttered dolefully, as he mixed himself a drink.
*****
mr. paul brodie laid down his cigar and newspaper and swung round in his chair to receive a visitor, already, in his mind, a prospective new client. a small boy had opened the door.
"the lady, sir," he announced.
mr. brodie recognised his visitor with a thrill of expectancy.
"say, this is miss letchowiski, isn't it?" he exclaimed, holding out his hand. "glad to see you, young lady. please take a seat."
rosa ignored the invitation. she came up to his desk and leaned over it.
"look here," she said, "you're the man, aren't you, who came messing round my grandfather's jewellery shop a few weeks ago? you were after the assistant—edward levy."
"well?" brodie ejaculated eagerly.
"you bungled things, or else he was too clever for you," rosa continued. "i've come to tell you that he's back again there now, carrying on the same game, got an electrical dynamo in the workshop, and no end of tools. his name ain't levy at all, and he isn't a jew."
"what do you suppose he is doing there?" brodie enquired.
"look here," the girl went on, "if i tell you, will you swear that you won't get my grandfather into this?"
"i think i can promise that," was the cautious reply.
"breaking up diamonds, then—that's what he's doing," the girl confided. "he's at it now."
mr. brodie showed no signs of excitement, but he was already struggling into his overcoat.
"there will probably be a reward for this," he said to rosa. "i shall not forget."
"i don't want your reward," the girl replied. "i've done it just because—well, never mind. you go and nab him...."
brodie did not suffer the grass to grow beneath his feet. he drove straight to scotland yard, and chafed very much at the delay which kept him five minutes from inspector ditchwater's presence.
"inspector," he announced, as soon as he was ushered into the latter's room, "i want you to give me a man and a warrant at once. this time i think i've got a clue that will lead us straight to jerry sands."
"is that so?" the inspector remarked dryly. "we've been there before, you know."
"see here, ditchwater," brodie continued, "you've kind of lost faith in me, and i can't say that i'm altogether surprised. but just listen. the girl from abraham letchowiski's shop has been up to me to-day. she says that that fellow i went after is back again there. he's got a dynamo in the back place and a whole set of tools, and is breaking up diamonds. just what i suspected before, only i couldn't lay my hands on him. this time we shall do it."
the inspector scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper.
"you can take your man," he said, "but don't get me into any trouble over this. we can't be raiding people's premises for ever, on suspicion."
"there'll be no trouble this time," mr. brodie promised triumphantly. "a jealous woman's the real thing in our job."
"well, i wish you luck," the inspector replied. "if you're really on to jerry sands, you're on to a big thing."
mr. brodie, with a plain-clothes constable, took a taxicab to the mile end road. the two men entered the shop together. david was alone behind the counter.
"what can i show the shentlemen?" he enquired urbanely.
"we want to speak to your grandfather," brodie announced. "you needn't leave the shop. i know the way."
they passed down the little steps into the stuffy parlour. abraham letchowiski was sitting in his chair, gazing into the fire and mumbling to himself. he looked at the visitors uneasily.
"what do you want here?" he asked. "i am not well to-day. i am not speaking of business."
"that's all right, mr. letchowiski," brodie answered. "it's just a word with your assistant we're after."
the uneasiness in the old man's face changed into terror.
"what do you want with him?" he exclaimed. "he is a respectable young man, a very clever watchmaker. he comes from switzerland. he has done nothing wrong."
brodie turned to the constable.
"don't let him move," he directed. "i hear the dynamo stopping."
he ran down the passage and threw open door. the man who had been working at bench turned to face him. the whir of the dynamo was slackening, but harvey grimm had had no time to collect his tools. there were several curiously shaped knives and fine files and chisels lying about. brodie saw them, and his eyes sparkled.
"edward levy," he said, "i arrest you on the charge of breaking up stolen diamonds. i have a constable in the room outside. you'll have to come up to the police-station with us and be questioned."
the young man laughed scornfully. he pointed to something bright held in the teeth of a small brass vice. with a touch of his finger he released it.
"diamonds!" he scoffed. "why, i am an expert on sham jewellery!"
brodie pressed incautiously forward, and harvey grimm's left hand swung round with a lightning-like stroke. the detective went over like a log, groaned for a moment and staggered to his feet. harvey grimm pressed him back, forced his knotted handkerchief into his mouth, and closed and locked the door through which he had entered. then he threw off his overall and caught up his coat and overcoat.
"you're a clever fellow, paul brodie," he said to the writhing figure upon the floor. "sorry i can't stop to discuss this matter with you."
he threw a little higher open the window which led into the yard, vaulted through and walked swiftly down the entry. he strolled into the broad thoroughfare, wiping the moisture from his forehead and looking everywhere for a taxi.
"my god!" he muttered to himself. "we're coming near the end of things!"
listening all the while for footsteps behind which never came, he at last hailed a taxicab and was driven to aldgate. at the mansion house he alighted, and in another taxicab made his way to one of the streets on the north side of the strand. here he entered a passageway, climbed the stairs past a second-hand clothes shop, and on the second flight opened the door of a room with a latchkey which hung from his chain. he gave a little murmur of relief as he discovered a young man in a dressing-gown, seated in an arm-chair with his feet up on the mantelpiece, reading a paper-backed novel. the young man bore a remarkable resemblance to mr. harvey grimm.
"thank heaven you are in!" the new-comer exclaimed, commencing like lightning to throw off his clothes. "turn on the bath, jim—quick as you can—and take these clothes down to the shop. shove 'em away anywhere."
the young man was already busying himself about the place.
"anything wrong, sir?" he asked.
"i've just had the devil of a squeak," harvey grimm declared. "it'll be touch and go this time. how did i spend the morning?"
"we made a point of calling at your tailor, sir," the young man replied, "also your hosier. we looked in at bendlebury's in cork street, and we had a cocktail—two, i think—at fitz's bar."
"capital!" harvey grimm muttered. "what did i do last night?"
"last night we wore dinner clothes, sir," the young man went on. "we dined at romano's——"
"alone, i trust?" harvey grimm snapped.
"quite alone, sir," the young man assented. "we conversed for a time with two ladies at an adjoining table. luigi spoke to us twice."
harvey grimm bolted through the door, and a few moments afterwards there was a sound of splashing. when he reappeared, a short time later, his complexion seemed to have undergone a marvellous change, and the most wonderful wig in the world had disappeared. the young man helped him into a blue serge suit. in five minutes he was dressed.
"my george, this is quick work!" harvey grimm murmured, his eyes sparkling. "there's ten pounds on the table, jim. put it in your pocket. i'll drop in to-morrow or the next day. clean gloves and my malacca cane. don't wait two moments after i've gone. get rid of all the clothes i have been wearing, in the darkest corner of the store. there goes the wig," he added, throwing it on the fire. "there won't be any more mile end for a little time. get to work like blazes, jim, and good-bye!"
the young man handed him a sheet of paper.
"there are our movements, sir, since you left last wednesday. you will find about a dozen recognitions a day."
harvey grimm thrust the paper into his pocket, stole swiftly down the stairs, paused for a moment on the threshold—it was his one moment of danger—and then strolled jauntily out. the street was almost empty. a few seconds and he was in the strand. he plunged into a tobacconist's shop, bought half-a-dozen cigarettes, one of which he lit, and a few minutes later he climbed the stairs leading to aaron rodd's office. there was no immediate answer to his knock, so he opened the door and stepped inside. a tall figure in khaki was standing in front of the looking-glass, going through sundry mysterious evolutions. harvey grimm stared at him in blank amazement.
"good heavens!" he gasped. "it's cresswell!"
the poet turned round and saluted harvey grimm in jaunty fashion.
"cheero, harvey!" he exclaimed. "you see, i've taken the plunge."
"fine fellow," harvey grimm murmured. "tell us about it?"
"i came in to tell aaron," the poet went on, "but he is, for some unaccountable reason, absent. the fact is, at first i didn't feel the call of this sort of thing at all. in my soul i hate war to-day, that is in its external and material aspects—the ugliness, the bloodshed, the mangled bodies and all the rest of it. but a few days ago old harris asked me to write them a patriotic poem. i tell you i no sooner got into the swim of it than i felt the fever burning in my own veins. i will read you the poem shortly. it will create a great sensation. the first person whom it brought into khaki was myself."
"you seem to have done the job pretty quickly," harvey grimm observed.
"i joined an officers' training corps only a few days ago," cresswell explained. "i went to my tailor's for a uniform and found that he had one made for a man exactly my height, who was down with pneumonia. so i just stepped into it and here i am. i came round to tell aaron, to take a fond farewell and all that sort of thing. i'm afraid my adventures will be of a different sort for a time. we've had some fun, though," he added, with a reminiscent gleam in his eyes.
"we shall miss you," harvey grimm sighed, "but i am beginning to fancy that our own number's about up. i've had the narrowest shave of my life this morning, and i don't feel that i am out of the wood yet. where is aaron, i wonder?"
"he was out when i arrived," the poet replied. "i've been waiting here for an hour."
harvey grimm consulted his watch.
"it is time," he decided, "for number one. it is several days since i tasted a cocktail. after that we might lunch together."
the poet assented with alacrity. they left a note for aaron and made their way round to the milan. the bar was rather more crowded than usual and they took their cocktails to a settee in a corner of the room. harvey grimm sent for a page and wrote the name of captain brinnen on a piece of paper.
"will you see whether you can find this gentleman in the hotel?" he directed. "he is staying, i believe, in the court."
the boy departed. harvey grimm, who as a rule was a temperate man, drank up his cocktail quickly and sent for another.
"do you believe in forebodings, stephen?" he asked.
"i was brought up on them," the poet replied. "there is irish blood in my veins. i am most superstitious."
"i have had an exciting adventure this morning," harvey grimm went on. "so far as any human being can see, i am out of it as i have been before. i have made the most careful arrangements, too—but there, it's well for you not to know too much. there's just this about it. i wish to god i could see that belgian and get rid of a few baubles."
"let me have them," his companion begged. "no one would suspect me."
harvey grimm shook his head.
"they're not your trouble, my boy," he said. "besides, you're too damned careless."
the page returned a few moments later.
"the gentleman left the hotel yesterday, sir," he announced. "the hall porter——"
"well?" harvey grimm interrupted.
"the hall porter," the boy continued, a little confused, "said something about the gentleman having changed his name."
harvey grimm's face grew sterner, and the look of trouble about his eyes more pronounced. he put a shilling in the boy's hand and sent him away.
"there's something up here," he muttered. "first of all aaron disappears, and now brinnen has changed his name. my god, if they only knew what his other name really was!"
the poet chuckled.
"and to think," he murmured, "that i have been in it! what a man!"
"the devil of it is for me," harvey grimm declared, "that i've fifty thousand pounds' worth of his stolen jewls around my body at the present moment. i fought my way out of a trap this morning. i tell you, stephen, as a rule this sort of thing stimulates me. i hold my head, a little higher, i whistle gayer tunes, i am looking out for the bright things in life every second of the time, and my feet scarcely touch the earth. but to-day it's all different. i can't walk without turning round. i can't hear that door open without starting. hell! ... bring me another cocktail, waiter."
"steady, old chap! your nerves are dicky, that's what's the matter with you."
"it's the first time in my life," harvey grimm muttered, "but i've got them now. i feel that i'm cornered. i did brodie in this morning. i left him at eleven o'clock, gagged and tied in the workshop he tracked me to. i was edward levy there, and there isn't one of them except the old man who knew otherwise. brodie himself never recognised me. the only fear is if the old man peaches. he's had a couple of thousand of the best, and he hoards gold and loves it as though it were his own lifeblood. thank god, here are the cocktails!"
"i shall write an epic about you this afternoon," the poet declared. "you're tense, harvey, that's what you are. you're strung up. there's a different sense in the words you speak, a sort of quivering significance in everything you say. you're feeling life, man."
"i'm feeling afraid, if that's anything," harvey grimm confessed, raising his glass. "there was a woman in it, of course—and god knows i was careful!—a fierce, strong young jewess. if she gets her grandfather by the throat, she'll wring the truth out of him."
cresswell rose to his feet.
"it will do you good to eat, my friend," he suggested. "i find you exciting, vibrating, stimulating, but you are wearing yourself out."
harvey grimm sat with tightly clenched fists.
"i'm afraid to go in the restaurant," he said. "do you notice how that man at the bar is staring, cresswell? who's he?"
"don't be a silly ass!" his companion exclaimed. "that's greaves, the london correspondent of the new york trombone. he'd be all over our story if he knew it. come along. pull yourself together, man ... upright!"
harvey grimm did his best. he walked into the restaurant with almost his usual airy bonhomme. an acquaintance stopped the two men.
"wouldn't look at me in fitz's, grimm," he complained. "getting proud, old chap?"
"sorry," harvey grimm replied. "i saw your back afterwards. i was looking at a man over your shoulder."
they seated themselves at their usual table. another chance acquaintance paused to speak to them.
"thought you'd given up this place, grimm. saw you at the piccadilly on thursday."
"i like a change sometimes," the latter observed. "how's the new play going?"
"capitally, thanks!"
the actor passed on. harvey grimm glanced at a sheet of paper which he brought out from his pocket.
"yes," he murmured, "i was at the piccadilly on thursday. nothing like being thorough in these things, stephen. my alibi was pretty successful, eh?"
"mean to say you get a chap to go about when you're in hiding, and establish alibis for you?" the poet asked wonderingly.
"that's exactly the idea," harvey grimm agreed, "and to tell you the truth, if i hadn't a fit of nerves on me i should say that my alibis would take a little upsetting."
they ordered luncheon and a bottle of wine, but for some reason or other the old spirit was lacking. they missed aaron rodd and speculated as to the cause of his absence. cresswell, too, seemed to have inherited a new seriousness with his unaccustomed attire. it was their mutual recognition of the drawing to an end of one little cycle of their life, and try though he might, harvey grimm could never escape from the queer sense of foreboding which had haunted him for the last few hours. and then, towards the end of the meal, a page-boy came into the room, gazed around for a moment and approached their table.
"two gentlemen would like to speak to you, mr. grimm," he announced.
harvey grimm laid down his knife and fork. he nodded to the boy, but there was a queer, hunted look in his eyes as he turned towards his companion.
"stephen, old fellow," he muttered, "it's come."
the poet laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder.
"look here, harvey," he asked, "do you want to make a scrap of it? i'm your man, if you do. or i say, have you anything you'd like to hand over to me? i can stand the racket."
harvey grimm shook his head firmly.
"no," he decided, "if it's the end, well, i'll face it. if only jerry hadn't cleared out i might have got rid of the stones. good-bye, stephen, and good luck to you! better follow me out, perhaps, if i don't return."
he made his way without undue haste from the room, exchanging one or two greetings, pausing, even, in the swing doors to say a few words with a friend. then, when he stood in the little lobby, he knew that there was truth at the back of all his forebodings. it was a well-known scotland yard inspector and a subordinate, both in plain clothes, who were standing there with their hats in their hands. the inspector greeted him cheerily, but dropped his voice.
"mr. grimm," he said, "i'll have to trouble you to come along to head-quarters. just a few questions, you understand—as quietly as you like. you see, we've come here in mufti. go back and say good-bye to your friend, if you want to."
"that's very considerate of you, inspector," was the grateful reply. "i'll just tap the window, if you'll allow me."
the poet obeyed the summons promptly. harvey grimm met him by the door and took his arm.
"they're after me, stephen," he confided. "they're doing it jolly civilly, though. there's a time for going on to the bitter end and there's a time for dropping it. i'm dropping it. once more, good luck to you!"
the two men gripped hands. the page-boy came up again and touched harvey grimm on the shoulder.
"wanted on the telephone, sir," he announced.
the former turned towards the inspector.
"pray, don't hurry, mr. grimm," the latter remarked courteously. "our time is entirely yours."
harvey grimm stepped into the telephone box and took up the receiver. the voice that answered his enquiry was hoarse, as though with some unnatural emotion.
"is that harvey grimm?"
"yes!"
"this is aaron—aaron rodd. where are you? can you come and help? i'm in trouble."
"so am i," harvey grimm replied, a little bitterly. "what's yours?"
"i came down to tilbury this morning with henriette, to see her brother off. we couldn't find him. henriette got on the wrong steamer and they've taken her off. it was a trap, harvey, do you hear? they've got her!"
"where are you?"
"i'm at tilbury, telephoning from the docks," was the hoarse reply. "the whole thing was a sell. the munition boat by which brinnen was supposed to leave has never been heard of. can you come down?"
harvey grimm closed the door tightly behind him and almost whispered down the telephone.
"can you hear, aaron?"
"yes!"
"jerry sands has got away all right. he wasn't on any munition boat! i was arrested five minutes ago. i'm being taken to scotland yard, and i've fifty thousand pounds' worth of his diamonds on me! i shouldn't worry about the girl if i were you, aaron. i think jerry sands' sister can take care of herself!"
"where's cresswell?"
"here with me."
"could he come?"
"he's joined an o.t.c. i don't suppose he could get leave. besides, can't you understand, aaron? she is jerry sands' sister and they're off together somewhere, for certain.... what's that? ... what? ..."
there was a confused babel of sounds—nothing more distinct. the connection had been cut. harvey grimm spent five minutes in vain, trying to re-establish it. then he left the booth.
"nice cropper for us, stephen," he announced to the poet, who was waiting outside. "that was aaron. the girl's given him the slip down at tilbury. he's like a madman, of course."
the inspector, who had lit his second cigarette, strolled up.
"i am afraid," he said, "that people are beginning to recognise us. don't you think——?"
"you are quite right, sir," harvey grimm assented. "you have been very considerate. i am entirely at your service now. good luck to you, cresswell. go back and finish your luncheon. you can sign the bill for me."
the poet played the game and departed, after a hearty handshake. harvey grimm took his seat in a taxicab, the inspector by his side, the constable opposite. they drove off.
"enquiries, eh?" harvey grimm ruminated. "i wonder what you want to enquire about?"
"i fancy," the inspector said confidentially, "that the chief will start by having you searched."
"what do you expect to find, if it's a fair question?"
the inspector smiled. he had thrust his arm in friendly fashion through his companion's.
"we've an idea," he replied, "that this time we shall find a few of jerry sands' diamonds."
