A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

The Orange Yellow Diamond

J >> J. S. Fletcher >> The Orange Yellow Diamond




. . . . _enius_,
. . ._nd jeweller_,
. . _ed Street_.

"That's one of the late Mr. Multenius's boxes," affirmed Melky at once.
"Daniel Multenius, Pawnbroker and Jeweller, Praed Street--that's the full
wording. Found in a fireplace, d'ye say, mister? Ah--and what had he taken
out of it before he threw the box away, now, Mr. Ayscough--whoever it was
that did throw it away?"

"That blessed orange and yellow diamond, I should think!" said Ayscough.
"Of course! Well, anything else?"

The man in charge carefully wrapped up and put away the jeweller's box;
then, with a significant glance at his fellow-detective, he slipped a
couple of fingers into his waistcoat pocket and drew out what looked like
a bit of crumpled paper.

"Aye!" he answered. "This! Found it--just there! Lying on the floor, at
the end of this table."

He opened out the bit of crumpled paper as he spoke and held it towards
the other two. Ayscough stared, almost incredulously, and Melky let out a
sharp exclamation.

"S'elp us!" he said. "A five-hundred-pound bank-note!"

"That's about it," remarked the exhibitor. "Bank of England note for five
hundred of the best! And--a good 'un, too. Lying on the floor."

"Take care of it," said Ayscough laconically. "Well--you haven't found any
papers, documents, or anything of that sort, that give any clue?"

"There's a lot of stuff there," answered the man in charge, pointing to a
pile of books and papers on the table, "but it seems to be chiefly
exercises and that sort of thing. I'll look through it myself, later."

"See if you can find any letters, addresses, and so on," counselled
Ayscough. He turned over some of the books, all of them medical works and
text-books, opening some of them at random. And suddenly he caught sight
of the name which the house-surgeon had given him half-an-hour before,
written on a fly-leaf: Mori Yada, 491, Gower Street--and an idea came into
his mind. He bade the man in charge keep his eyes open and leave nothing
unexamined, and tapping Melky's arm, led him outside. "Look here!" he
said, drawing out his watch, as they crossed the hall, "it's scarcely ten
o'clock, and I've got the address of that young Jap. Come on--we'll go and
ask him a question or two."

So for the second time that evening, Melky, who was beginning to feel as
if he were on a chase which pursued anything but a straight course, found
himself in Gower Street again, and followed Ayscough along, wondering what
was going to happen next, until the detective paused at the door of a tall
house in the middle of the long thoroughfare and rang the bell. A smart
maid answered that ring and looked dubiously at Ayscough as he proffered a
request to see Mr. Mori Yada. Yes--Mr. Yada was at home, but he didn't
like to see any one, of an evening when he was at his studies, and--in
fact he'd given orders not to be disturbed at that time.

"I think he'll see me, all the same," said Ayscough, drawing out one of
his professional cards. "Just give him that, will you, and tell him my
business is very important."

He turned to Melky when the girl, still looking unwilling, had gone away
upstairs, and gave him a nudge of the elbow.

"When we get up there--as we shall," whispered Ayscough, "you watch this
Jap chap while I talk to him. Study his face--and see if anything
surprises him."

"Biggest order, mister--with a Jap!" muttered Melky. "Might as well tell
me to watch a stone image--their faces is like wood!"

"Try it!" said Ayscough. "Flicker of an eyelid--twist of the lip--
anything! Here's the girl back again."

A moment later Melky, treading close on the detective's heels, found
himself ushered into a brilliantly-lighted, rather over-heated room,
somewhat luxuriously furnished, wherein, in the easiest of chairs, a cigar
in his lips, a yellow-backed novel in his hand, sat a slimly-built,
elegant young gentleman whose face was melting to a smile.



CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


MR. MORI YADA

Ayscough was on his guard as soon as he saw that smile. He had had some
experience of various national characteristics in his time, and he knew
that when an Eastern meets you with a frank and smiling countenance you
had better keep all your wits about you. He began the exercise of his own
with a polite bow--while executing it, he took a rapid inventory of Mr.
Mori Yada. About--as near as he could judge--two or three and twenty; a
black-haired, black-eyed young gentleman; evidently fastidious about his
English clothes, his English linen, his English ties, smart socks, and
shoes--a good deal of a dandy, in short--and, judging from his
surroundings, very fond of English comfort--and not averse to the English
custom of taking a little spirituous refreshment with his tobacco. A
decanter stood on the table at his elbow; a syphon of mineral water reared
itself close by; a tumbler was within reach of Mr. Yada's slender
yellowish fingers.

"Servant, sir!" said Ayscough. "Detective Sergeant Ayscough of the
Criminal Investigation Department--friend of mine, this, sir, Mr. Yada, I
believe--Mr. Mori Yada?"

Mr. Yada smiled again, and without rising, indicated two chairs.

"Oh, yes!" he said in excellent English accents. "Pleased to see you--will
you take a chair--and your friend! You want to talk to me?"

Ayscough sat down and unbuttoned his overcoat.

"Much obliged, sir," he said. "Yes--the fact is, Mr. Yada, I called to see
you on a highly important matter that's arisen. Your name, sir, was given
to me tonight by one of the junior house-surgeons at the hospital up the
street--Dr. Pittery."

"Oh, yes, Dr. Pittery--I know," agreed Yada. "Yes?"

"Dr. Pittery tells me, sir," continued Ayscough, "that you know two
Chinese gentlemen who are fellow-students of yours at the hospital, Mr.
Yada?"

The Japanese bowed his dark head and blew out a mouthful of smoke from his
cigar.

"Yes!" he answered readily, "Mr. Chang Li--Mr. Chen Li. Oh, yes!"

"I want to ask you a question, Mr. Yada," said Ayscough, bending forward
and assuming an air of confidence. "When did you see those two gentlemen
last--either of them?"

Yada leaned back in his comfortably padded chair and cast his quick eyes
towards the ceiling. Suddenly he jumped to his feet.

"You take a little drop of whisky-and-soda?" he said hospitably, pushing a
clean glass towards Ayscough. "Yes--I will get another glass for your
friend, too. Help yourselves, please, then--I will look in my diary for an
answer to your question. You excuse me, one moment."

He walked across the room to a writing cabinet which stood in one corner,
and took up a small book that lay on the blotting-pad; while he turned
over its pages, Ayscough, helping himself and Melky to a drink, winked at
his companion with a meaning expression.

"I have not seen either Mr. Chang Li or Mr. Chen Li since the morning of
the 18th November," suddenly said Yada. He threw the book back on the
desk, and coming to the hearthrug, took up a position with his back to the
fire and his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He nodded politely as
his visitors raised their glasses to him. "Is anything the matter, Mr.
Detective-Sergeant?" he asked.

Ayscough contrived to press his foot against Melky's as he gave a direct
answer to this question.

"The fact of the case is, Mr. Yada," he said, "one of these two young men
has been murdered! murdered, sir!"

Yada's well-defined eyebrows elevated themselves--but the rest of his face
was immobile. He looked fixedly at Ayscough for a second or two--then he
let out one word.

"Which?"

"According to Dr. Pittery--Chen Li," answered Ayscough. "Dr. Pittery
identified him. Murdered, Mr. Yada, murdered! Knifed!--in the throat."

The reiteration of the word murdered appeared to yield the detective some
sort of satisfaction--but it apparently made no particular impression on
the Japanese. Again he rapped out one word.

"Where?"

"His body was found in the garden of the house they rented in Maida Vale,"
replied Ayscough. "Molteno Lodge. No doubt you've visited them there, Mr.
Yada?"

"I have been there--yes, a few times," assented Yada. "Not very lately.
But--where is Chang Li?"

"That's what we don't know--and what we want to know," said Ayscough.
"He's not been seen at the hospital since the 20th. He didn't turn up
there--nor Chen, either, at a class, that day. And you say you haven't
seen them either since the 18th?"

"I was not at the hospital on the 19th," replied Yada. He threw away the
end of his cigar, picked up a fresh one from a box which stood on the
table, pushed the box towards his visitors, and drew out a silver match-
box. "What are the facts of this murder, Mr. Detective-Sergeant?" he
asked quietly. "Murder is not done without some object--as a rule."

Ayscough accepted the offered cigar, passed the box to Melky and while he
lighted his selection, thought quietly. He was playing a game with the
Japanese, and it was necessary to think accurately and quickly. And
suddenly he made up his mind and assumed an air of candour.

"It's like this, Mr. Yada," he said. "I may as well tell you all about it.
You've doubtless read all about this Praed Street mystery in the
newspapers? Well, now, some very extraordinary developments have arisen
out of the beginnings of that, it turns out."

Melky sat by, disturbed and uncomfortable, while Ayscough reeled off a
complete narrative of the recent discoveries to the suave-mannered,
phlegmatic, calmly-listening figure on the hearthrug. He did not
understand the detective's doings--it seemed to him the height of folly to
tell a stranger, and an Eastern stranger at that, all about the fact that
there was a diamond worth eighty thousand pounds at the bottom of these
mysteries and murders. But he discharged his own duties, and watched Yada
intently--and failed to see one single sign of anything beyond ordinary
interest in his impassive face.

"So there it is, sir," concluded Ayscough. "I've no doubt whatever that
Chen Li called at Multenius's shop to pay the rent; that he saw the
diamond in the old man's possession and swagged him for it; that Parslett
saw Chen Li slip away from that side-door and, hearing of Multenius's
death, suspected Chen Li of it and tried to blackmail him; that Chen Li
poisoned Parslett--and that Chen Li himself was knifed for that diamond.
Now--by whom? Chang Li has--disappeared!"

"You suspect Chang Li?" asked Yada.

"I do," exclaimed Ayscough. "A Chinaman--a diamond worth every penny of
eighty thousand pounds--Ah!" He suddenly lifted his eyes to Yada with a
quick enquiry. "How much do you know of these two?" he asked.

"Little--beyond the fact that they were fellow-students of mine," answered
Yada. "I occasionally visited them--occasionally they visited me--that is
all."

"Dr. Pittery says they weren't brothers?" suggested Ayscough.

"So I understood," assented Yada. "Friends."

"You can't tell us anything of their habits?--haunts?--what they usually
did with themselves when they weren't at the hospital?" asked the
detective.

"I should say that when they weren't at the hospital, they were at their
house--reading," answered Yada, drily. "They were hard workers."

Ayscough rose from his chair.

"Well, much obliged to you, sir," he said. "As your name was mentioned as
some sort of a friend of theirs, I came to you. Of course, most of what
I've told you will be in all the papers tomorrow. If you should hear
anything of this Chang Li, you'll communicate with us, Mr. Yada?"

The Japanese smiled--openly.

"Most improbable, Mr. Detective-Sergeant!" he answered. "I know no more
than what I have said. For more information, you should go to the Chinese
Legation."

"Good idea, sir--thank you," said Ayscough.

He bowed himself and Melky out; once outside the street-door he drew his
companion away towards a part which lay in deep shadow. Some repairing
operations to the exterior of a block of houses were going on there;
underneath a scaffolding which extended over the sidewalk Ayscough drew
Melky to a halt.

"You no doubt wondered why I told that chap so much?" he whispered.
"Especially about that diamond! But I had my reasons--and particularly for
telling him about its value."

"It isn't what I should ha' done, Mr. Ayscough," said Melky, "and it
didn't ought to come out in the newspapers, neither--so I think! 'Tain't a
healthy thing to let the public know there's an eighty-thousand pound
diamond loose somewhere in London--and as to telling that slant-eyed
fellow in there--"

"You wait a bit, my lad!" interrupted Ayscough. "I had my reasons--good
'uns. Now, look here, we're going to watch that door awhile. If the Jap
comes out--as I've an idea he will--we're going to follow. And as you're
younger, and slimmer, and less conspicuous than I am, if he should emerge,
keep on the shadowy side of the street, at a safe distance, and follow him
as cleverly as you can. I'll follow you."

"What new game's this?" asked Melky.

"Never mind!" replied Ayscough. "And, if it does come to following, and he
should take a cab, contrive to be near--there's a good many people about,
and if you're careful he'll never see you. And--there, now, what did I
tell you? He's coming out, now! Be handy--more depends on it than you're
aware of."

Yada, seen clearly in the moonlight which flooded that side of the street,
came out of the door which they had left a few minutes earlier. His smart
suit of grey tweed had disappeared under a heavy fur-collared overcoat; a
black bowler hat surmounted his somewhat pallid face. He looked neither to
right nor left, but walked swiftly up the street in the direction of the
Euston Road. And when he had gone some thirty yards, Ayscough pushed Melky
before him out of their retreat.

"You go first," he whispered, "I'll come after you. Keep an eye on him as
far as you can--didn't I tell you he'd come out when we'd left? Be wary!"

Melky slipped away up the street on the dark side and continued to track
the slim figure quickly advancing in the moonlight. He followed until they
had passed the front of the hospital--a few yards further, and Yada
suddenly crossed the road in the direction of the Underground Railway. He
darted in at the entrance to the City-bound train, and disappeared, and
Melky, uncertain what to do, almost danced with excitement until Ayscough
came leisurely towards him. "Quick! quick!" exclaimed Melky. "He's gone
down there--City trains. He'll be off unless you're on to him!"

But Ayscough remained quiescent and calmly relighted his cigar.

"All right, my lad," he said. "Let him go--just now. I've seen--what I
expected to see!"



CHAPTER THIRTY


THE MORTUARY

Melky, who had grown breathless in his efforts to carry out his
companion's wishes, turned and looked at him with no attempt to conceal
his wonder.

"Well, s'elp me if you ain't a cool 'un, Mr. Ayscough!" he exclaimed.
"Here you troubles to track a chap to this here Underground Railway, seen
him pop into it like a rabbit into a hole--and let's him go! What did we
follow him up Gower Street for? Just to see him set off for a ride?"

"All right, my lad!" repeated Ayscough. "You don't quite understand our
little ways. Wait here a minute."

He drew one of his cards from his pocket and carrying it into the booking
office exchanged a few words with the clerk at the window. Presently he
rejoined Melky. "He took a ticket for Whitechapel," remarked Ayscough as
he strolled quietly up. "Ah! now what does a young Japanese medical
student want going down that way at eleven o'clock at night? Something
special, no doubt, Mr. Rubinstein. However, I'm going westward just now.
Just going to have a look in at the Great Western Hotel, to see if Mr.
Purdie heard anything from that American chap--and then I'm for home and
bed. Like to come to the hotel with me?"

"Strikes me we might as well make a night of it!" remarked Melky as they
recrossed the road and sought a west-bound train. "We've had such an
evening as I never expected! Mr. Ayscough! when on earth is this going to
come to something like a clearing-up?"

Ayscough settled himself in a corner of a smoking-carriage and leaned
back.

"My own opinion," he said, "is that it's coming to an end. Tomorrow, the
news of the Chinaman's murder'll be the talk of the town. And if that
doesn't fetch Levendale out of whatever cranny he's crept into, hanged if
I know what will!"

"Ah! you think that, do you?" said Melky. "But--why should that news fetch
him out?"

"Don't know!" replied Ayscough, almost unconcernedly. "But I'm almost
certain that it will. You see--I think Levendale's looking for Chen Li.
Now, if Levendale hears that Chen Li's lying dead in our mortuary--what?
See?"

Melky murmured that Mr. Ayscough was a cute 'un, and relapsed into thought
until the train pulled up at Praed Street. He followed the detective up
the streets and across the road to the hotel, dumbly wondering how many
times that day he had been in and about that quarter on this apparently
interminable chase. He was getting dazed--but Ayscough who was still
smoking the cigar which Yada had given him, strode along into the hotel
entrance apparently as fresh as paint.

Purdie had a private sitting-room in connection with his bedroom, and
there they found him and Lauriston, both smoking pipes and each evidently
full of thought and speculation. They jumped to their feet as the
detective entered.

"I say!" exclaimed Lauriston. "Is this true?--this about the Chinese chap?
Is it what they think at your police-station?--connected with the other
affairs? We've been waiting, hoping you'd come in!"

"Ah!" said Ayscough, dropping into a chair. "We've been pretty busy, me
and Mr. Rubinstein there--we've had what you might call a pretty full
evening's work of it. Yes--it's true enough, gentlemen--another step in
the ladder--another brick in the building! We're getting on, Mr. Purdie,
we're getting on! So you've been round to our place?--they told you,
there!"

"They gave us a mere outline," answered Purdie. "Just the bare facts. I
suppose you've heard nothing of the other Chinaman?"

"Not a circumstance--as yet," said Ayscough. "But I'm in hopes--I've done
a bit, I think, towards it--with Mr. Rubinstein's help, though he doesn't
quite understand my methods. But you, gentlemen--I came in to hear if
you'd anything to tell about Guyler. What did he think about what John
Purvis had to tell us this afternoon?"

"He wasn't surprised," answered Purdie. "Don't you remember that he
assured us from the very start that diamonds would be found to be at the
bottom of this. But he surprised us!"

"Aye? How?" asked Ayscough. "Some news?"

"Guyler swears that he saw Stephen Purvis this very morning," replied
Purdie. "He's confident of it!"

"Saw Stephen Purvis--this very morning!" exclaimed Ayscough. "Where, now?"

"Guyler had business down in the City--in the far end of it," said
Purdie. "He was crossing Bishopsgate when he saw Stephen Purvis--he swears
it was Stephen Purvis!--nothing can shake him! He, Purvis, was just
turning the corner into a narrow alley running out of the street. Guyler
rushed after him--he'd disappeared. Guyler waited, watching that alley, he
says, like a cat watches a mouse-hole--and all in vain. He watched for an
hour--it was no good."

"Pooh!" said Ayscough. "If it was Purvis, he'd walked straight through the
alley and gone out at the other end."

"No!" remarked Lauriston. "At least, not according to Guyler. Guyler says
it was a long, narrow alley--Purvis could have reached one end by the time
he'd reached the other. He says--Guyler--that on each side of that alley
there are suites of offices--he reckoned there were a few hundred separate
offices in the lot, and that it would take him a week to make enquiry at
the doors of each. But he's certain that Purvis disappeared into one block
of them and dead certain that it was Stephen Purvis that he saw. So--
Purvis is alive!"

"Where's the other Purvis--the farmer?" asked Ayscough.

"Stopping with Guyler at the Great Northern," answered Lauriston. "We've
all four been down in the City, looking round, this evening. Guyler and
John Purvis are going down again first thing in the morning. John Purvis,
of course, is immensely relieved to know that Guyler's certain about his
brother. I say!--do you know what Guyler's theory is about that diamond of
Stephen's?"

"No--and what might Mr. Guyler's theory be, now Mr. Lauriston?" enquired
the detective. "There's such a lot of ingenious theories about that one
may as well try to take in another. Mr. Rubinstein there is about weary of
theories."

But Melky was pricking his ears at the mere mention of anything relating
to the diamond.

"That's his chaff, Mr. Lauriston," he said. "Never mind him! What does
Guyler think?"

"Well, of course, Guyler doesn't know yet about the Chinese development,"
said Lauriston. "Guyler thinks the robbery has been the work of a gang--a
clever lot of diamond thieves who knew about Stephen Purvis's find of the
orange-yellow thing and put in a lot of big work about getting it when it
reached England. And he believes that that gang has kidnapped Levendale,
and that Stephen Purvis is working in secret to get at them. That's
Guyler's notion, anyhow."

"Well!" said Ayscough. "And there may be something in it! For this search
--how do we know that at any rate one of these Chinamen mayn't have had
some connection with this gang? You never know--and to get a dead straight
line at a thing's almost impossible. However, we've taken steps to have
the news about the diamond and about this Chen Li appear in tomorrow
morning's papers, and if that doesn't rouse the whole town--"

A tap at the door prefaced the entrance of a waiter, who looked
apologetically at its inmates.

"Beg pardon, gentlemen," he said, "Mr. Ayscough? Gentleman outside would
like a word with you, if you please, sir."

Ayscough picked up his hat and walked out--there, waiting a little way
down the corridor, an impressive figure in his big black cloak and wide-
brimmed hat, stood Dr. Mirandolet. He strode forward as the detective
advanced.

"I heard you were here, so I came up," he said, leading Ayscough away.
"Look here, my friend--one of your people has told me of this affair at
Molteno Lodge--the discovery of the Chinaman's dead body."

"That young fellow, Rubinstein, who called on you early this evening, and
got me to accompany him discovered it," said Ayscough, who was wondering
what the doctor was after. "I was with him."

"I have heard, too," continued Mirandolet, "also from one of your people,
about the strange story of the diamond which came out this afternoon, from
the owner's brother. Now--I'll tell you why after--I want to see that dead
Chinaman! I've a particular reason. Will you come with me to the
mortuary?"

Ayscough's curiosity was aroused by Mirandolet's manner, and without going
back to Purdie's room, he set out with him. Mirandolet remained strangely
silent until they came to the street in which the mortuary stood.

"A strange and mysterious matter this, my friend!" he said. "That little
Rubinstein man might have had some curious premonition when he came to me
tonight with his odd question about Chinese!"

"Just what I said myself, doctor!" agreed Ayscough.

"It did look as if he'd a sort of foreboding, eh? But--Hullo!"

He stopped short as a taxi-cab driven at a considerable speed, came
rushing down the street and passing them swiftly turned into the wider
road beyond. And the sudden exclamation was forced from his lips because
it seemed to him that as the cab sped by he saw a yellow-hued face within
it--for the fraction of a second. Quick as that glimpse was, Ayscough was
still quicker as he glanced at the number on the back of the car--and
memorized it.

"Odd!" he muttered, "odd! Now, I could have sworn--" He broke off, and
hurried after Mirandolet who had stridden ahead. "Here we are, doctor," he
said, as they came to the door of the mortuary. "There's a man on night
duty here, so there's no difficulty about getting in."

There was a drawing of bolts, a turning of keys; the door opened, and a
man looked out and seeing Ayscough and Dr. Mirandolet, admitted them into
an ante-room and turned up the gas.

"We want to see that Chinaman, George," said the detective. "Shan't keep
you long."

"There's a young foreign doctor just been to see him, Mr. Ayscough," said
the man. "You'd pass his car down the street--he hasn't been gone three
minutes. Young Japanese--brought your card with him."

Ayscough turned on the man as if he had given him the most startling news
in the world.

"What?" he exclaimed, "Japanese? Brought my card?"

"Showed me it as soon as he got here," answered the attendant, surprised
at Ayscough's amazement. "Said you'd given it to him, so that he could
call here and identify the body. So, of course, I let him go in."

Ayscough opened his mouth in sheer amazement. But before he could get out
a word, Mirandolet spoke, seizing the mortuary-keeper by the arm in his
eagerness.

"You let that man--a Japanese--see the dead Chinaman--_alone_?" he
demanded.

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