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The Orange Yellow Diamond

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




There was a moment's silence. Then Ayscough spoke.

"Not a definite idea, Mr. Levendale--as yet."

"Then I'll tell you," said Levendale. "A Chinese fellow--one Chang Li.
He's got them--both! And Stephen Purvis and I have been after him for all
the days and nights since we disappeared--and we're beaten! Now you'll
have to take it up--and I'd better tell you the plain truth about what's
no doubt seemed a queer business from the first. Half-an-hour's talk now
will save hours of explanation later on. So listen to me, all of you--I
already see two gentlemen here, Mr. Killick, and Mr. Guyler, who in a
certain fashion, can corroborate some particulars that I shall give you.
Keep us free from interruption, if you please, while I tell you my story."

Ayscough answered this request by going to the door and leaning against
it, and Levendale took a chair by the side of the desk and looked round at
an expectant audience.

"It's a queer and, in some respects, an involved story," he said, "but I
shall contrive to make matters plain to you before I've finished. I shall
have to go back a good many years--to a time when, as Mr. Killick there
knows, I was a partner with Daniel Molteno in a jewellery business in the
City. I left him, and went out to South Africa, where I engaged in diamond
trading. I did unusually well in my various enterprises, and some years
later I came back to London a very well-to-do man. Not long after my
return, I met my former partner again. He had changed his name to
Multenius, and was trading in Praed Street as a jeweller and pawnbroker.
Now, I had no objection to carrying on a trade with certain business
connections of mine at the Cape--and after some conversation with
Multenius he and I arranged to buy and sell diamonds together here in
London, and I at once paid over a sum of money to him as working capital.
The transactions were carried out in his name. It was he, chiefly, who
conducted them--he was as good and keen a judge of diamonds as any man I
ever knew--and no one here was aware that I was concerned in them. I never
went to his shop in Praed Street but twice--if it was absolutely necessary
for him to see me, we met in the City, at a private office which I have
there. Now you understand the exact relations between Daniel Multenius and
myself. We were partners--in secret.

"We come, then, to recent events. Early in this present autumn, we heard
from Mr. Stephen Purvis, with whom I had had some transactions in South
Africa, that he had become possessed of a rare and fine orange-yellow
diamond and that he was sending it to us. It arrived at Multenius's--
Multenius brought it to me at my city office and we examined it, after
which Multenius deposited it in his bank. We decided to buy it ourselves
--I finding the money. We knew, from our messages from Stephen Purvis,
that he would be in town on the 18th November, and we arranged everything
for that date. That date, then, becomes of special importance--what
happened at Multenius's shop in Praed Street on the afternoon of November
18th, between half-past four and half-past five is, of course, the thing
that really is of importance. Now, what did happen? I can tell you--save
as regards one detail which is, perhaps, of more importance than the other
details. Of that detail I can't tell anything--but I can offer a good
suggestion about it.

"Stephen Purvis was to call at Daniel Multenius's shop in Praed Street
between five o'clock and half-past on the afternoon of November 18th--to
complete the sale of his diamond. About noon on that day, Daniel Multenius
went to the City. He went to his bank and took the diamond away. He then
proceeded to my office, where I handed him eighty thousand pounds in bank
notes--notes of large amounts. With the diamond and these notes in his
possession, Daniel Multenius went back to Praed Street. I was to join him
there shortly after five o'clock.

"Now we come to my movements. I lunched in the City, and afterwards went
to a certain well-known book-seller's in Holborn, who had written to tell
me that he had for sale a valuable book which he knew I wanted. I have
been a collector of rare books ever since I came back to England. I spent
an hour or so at the book-seller's shop. I bought the book which I had
gone to see--paying a very heavy price for it. I carried it away in my
hand, not wrapped up, and got into an omnibus which was going my way, and
rode in it as far as the end of Praed Street. There I got out. And--in
spite of what I said in my advertisement in the newspapers of the
following morning,--I had the book in my hand when I left the omnibus. Why
I pretended to have lost it, why I inserted that advertisement in the
papers, I shall tell you presently--that was all part of a game which was
forced upon me.

"It was, as near as I can remember, past five o'clock when I turned along
Praed Street. The darkness was coming on, and there was a slight rain
falling, and a tendency to fog. However, I noticed something--I am
naturally very quick of observation. As I passed the end of the street
which goes round the back of the Grand Junction Canal basin, the street
called Iron Gate Wharf, I saw turn into it, walking very quickly, a
Chinaman whom I knew to be one of the two Chinese medical students to whom
Daniel Multenius had let a furnished house in Maida Vale. He had his back
to me--I did not know which of the two he was. I thought nothing of the
matter, and went on. In another minute I was at the pawn-shop. I opened
the door, walked in, and went straight to the little parlour--I had been
there just twice before when Daniel Multenius was alone, and so I knew my
way. I went, I say, straight through--and in the parlour doorway ran into
Stephen Purvis.

"Purvis was excited--trembling, big fellow though he is, do you see? He
will bear me out as to what was said--and done. Without a word, he turned
and pointed to where Daniel Multenius was lying across the floor--dead. 'I
haven't been here a minute!' said Purvis. 'I came in--found him, like
that! There's nobody here. For God's sake, where's my diamond?'

"Now, I was quick to think. I formed an impression within five seconds.
That Chinaman had called--found the old man lying in a fit, or possibly
dead--had seen, as was likely, the diamond on the table in the parlour,
the wad of bank-notes lying near, had grabbed the lot--and gone away. It
was a theory--and I am confident yet that it was the correct one. And I
tell you plainly that my concern from that instant was not with Daniel
Multenius, but with the Chinaman! I thought and acted like lightning.
First, I hastily examined Multenius, felt in his pockets, found that there
was nothing there that I wanted and that he was dead. Then I remembered
that on a previous visit of mine he had let me out of his house by a door
at the rear which communicated with a narrow passage running into Market
Street, and without a second's delay, I seized Purvis by the arm and
hurried him out. It was dark enough in that passage--there was not a soul
about--we crossed Market Street, turned to the right, and were in Oxford
and Cambridge Terrace before we paused. My instinct told me that the right
thing to do was to get away from that parlour. And it was not until we
were quite away from it that I realized that I had left my book behind
me!"



CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


BAFFLED

Levendale paused at this point of his story, and looked round the circle
of attentive faces. He was quick to notice that two men were watching him
with particularly close attention--one was Ayscough, the other, the old
solicitor. And as he resumed his account he glanced meaningly at Mr.
Killick.

"I daresay some of you would like to question me--and Stephen Purvis, too
--on what I've already told you?" he said. "You're welcome to ask any
questions you like--any of you--when I've done. But--let me finish--for
then perhaps you'll fully understand what we were at.

"Purvis and I walked up and down in Oxford and Cambridge Terrace for some
time--discussing the situation. The more I considered the matter, the more
I was certain that my first theory was right--the Chinaman had got the
diamond and the bank-notes. I was aware of these two Chinamen as tenants of
Multenius's furnished house--as a matter of fact, I had been present, at
the shop in Praed Street, on one of my two visits there when they
concluded their arrangements with him. What I now thought was this--one of
them had called on the old man to do some business, or to pay the rent,
and had found him in a fit, or dead, as the result of one, had seen the
diamond and the money on the table, placed there in readiness for Purvis's
coming, and had possessed himself of both and made off. Purvis agreed with
me. And--both Purvis and myself are well acquainted with the
characteristic peculiarities, and idiosyncrasies of Chinamen!--we knew
with what we had to deal. Therefore we knew what we had to do. We wanted
the diamond and my money. And since we were uncomfortably aware of the
craft and subtlety of the thief who'd got both we knew we should have to
use craft ourselves--and of no common sort. Therefore we decided that the
very last thing we should think of would be an immediate appeal to the
police.

"Now, you police officials may, nay, will!--say that we ought to have gone
straight to you, especially as this was a case of murder. But we knew
nothing about it being a case of murder. We had seen no signs of violence
on the old man--I knew him to be very feeble, and I believed he had been
suddenly struck over by paralysis, or something of that sort. I reckoned
matters up, carefully. It was plain that Daniel Multenius had been left
alone in house and shop--that his granddaughter was out on some errand or
other. Therefore, no one knew of the diamond and the money. We did not
want any one to know. If we had gone to the police and told our tale, the
news would have spread, and would certainly have reached the Chinaman's
ears. We knew well enough that if we were to get our property back the
thief must not be alarmed--there must be nothing in the newspapers next
morning. The Chinaman must not know that the real owners of the diamond
and the bank-notes suspected him--he must not know that information about
his booty was likely to be given to the police. He must be left to
believe--for some hours at any rate--that what he had possessed himself of
was the property of a dead man who could not tell anything. But there
was my book in that dead man's parlour! It was impossible to go back and
fetch it. It was equally impossible that it should not attract attention.
Daniel Multenius's granddaughter, whom I believed to be a very sharp young
woman, would notice it, and would know that it had come into the place
during her absence. I thought hard over that problem--and finally I
drafted an advertisement and sent it off to an agency with instructions to
insert it in every morning newspaper in London next day. Why? Because I
wanted to draw a red herring across the trail!--I wanted, for the time
being, to set up a theory that some man or other had found that book in
the omnibus, had called in at Multenius's to sell or pawn it, had found
the old man alone, and had assaulted and robbed him. All this was with a
view to hoodwinking the Chinaman. Anything must be done, anything!--to
keep him ignorant that Purvis and I knew the real truth.

"But--what did we intend to do? I tell you, not being aware that old
Daniel Multenius had met his death by violence, we did not give one
second's thought to that aspect and side of the affair--we concentrated on
the recovery of our property. I knew the house in which these Chinese
lived. That evening, Purvis and I went there. We have both been
accustomed, in our time, to various secret dealings and manoeuvres, and we
entered the grounds of that house without any one being the wiser. It did
not take long to convince us that the house was empty. It remained empty
that night--Purvis kept guard over it, in an outhouse in the garden. No
one either entered or left it between our going to it and Purvis coming
away from it next morning--he stayed there, watching until it was time to
keep an appointment with me in Hyde Park. Before I met him, I had been
called upon by Detective Ayscough, Mr. Rubinstein, and Mr. Lauriston--they
know what I said to them. I could not at that time say anything else--I
had my own concerns to think of.

"When Purvis and I met we had another consultation, and we determined, in
view of all the revelations which had come out and had been published in
the papers, that the suspicion cast on young Mr. Lauriston was the very
best thing that could happen for us; it would reassure our Chinaman. And
we made up our minds that the house in Maida Vale would not be found
untenanted that night, and we arranged to meet there at eleven o'clock. We
felt so sure that our man would have read all the news in the papers, and
would feel safe, and that we should find him. But, mark you, we had no
idea as to which of the two Chinamen it was that we wanted. Of one fact,
however, we were certain--whichever it was that I had seen slip round the
corner of Iron Gate Wharf the previous day, whether it was Chang Li or
Chen Li, he would have kept his secret to himself! The thing was--to get
into that house; to get into conversation with both; to decide which was
the guilty man, and then--to take our own course. We knew what to do--and
we went fully prepared.

"Now we come to this--our second visit to the house in Maida Vale. To be
exact, it was between eleven and twelve on the second night after the
disappearance of the diamond. As on the previous night, we gained access
to the garden by the door at the back--that, on each occasion, was
unfastened, while the gate giving access to the road in Maida Vale was
securely locked. And, as on the previous night, we quickly found that up
to then at any rate, the house was empty. But not so the garden! While I
was looking round the further side of the house, Purvis took a careful
look round the garden. And presently he came to me and drew away to the
asphalted path which runs from the front gate to the front door. The moon
had risen above the houses and trees--and in its light he pointed to
bloodstains. It did not take a second look, gentlemen, to see that they
were recent--in fact, fresh. Somebody had been murdered in that garden not
many minutes--literally, minutes!--before our arrival. And within two
minutes more we found the murdered man lying behind some shrubbery on the
left of the path. I knew him for the younger of the two Chinese--the man
called Chen Li.

"This discovery, of course, made us aware that we were now face to face
with a new development. We were not long in arriving at a conclusion about
that. Chang Li had found out that his friend had become possessed of these
valuable--he might have discovered the matter of the diamond, or of the
bank-notes or both--how was immaterial. But we were convinced, putting
everything together, that he had made this discovery, had probably laid in
wait for Chen Li as he returned home that night, had run a knife into him
as he went up the garden, had dragged the body into the shrubbery,
possessed himself of the loot, and made off. And now we were face to face
with what was going, as we knew, to be the stiffest part of our work--the
finding of Chang Li. We set to work on that without a moment's delay.

"I have told you that Purvis and I have a pretty accurate knowledge of
Chinamen; we have both had deep and intimate experience of them and their
ways. I, personally, know a good deal of the Chinese Colony in London: I
have done business with Chinamen, both in London and South Africa, for
years. I had a good idea of what Chang Li's procedure would be. He would
hide--if need be, for months, until the first heat of the hue and cry
which he knew would be sure to be raised, would have cooled down. There
are several underground warrens--so to speak--in the East End, in which he
could go to earth, comfortably and safely, until there was a chance of
slipping out of the country unobserved. I know already of some of them. I
would get to know of others.

"Purvis and I got on that track--such as it was, at once. We went along to
the East End there and then--before morning I had shaved off my beard and
mustache, disguised myself in old clothes, and was beginning my work.
First thing next morning I did two things--one was to cause a telegram to
be sent from Spring Street to my butler explaining my probable absence;
the other to secretly warn the Bank of England about the bank-notes. But I
had no expectation that Chang Li would try to negotiate those--all his
energies, I knew, would be concentrated on the diamond. Nevertheless, he
might try--and would, if he tried--succeed--in changing one note, and it
was as well to take that precaution.

"Now then, next day, Purvis and I being, in our different ways, at work in
the East End, we heard the news about the Praed Street tradesman,
Parslett. That seemed to me remarkable proof of my theory. As the
successive editions of the newspapers came out during that day, and next
day, we learnt all about the Parslett affair. I saw through it at once.
Parslett, being next-door neighbour to Daniel Multenius, had probably seen
Chen Li--whom we now believed to have been the actual thief--slip away
from Multenius's door, and, when the news of Daniel's death came out, had
put two and two together, and, knowing where the Chinamen lived, had gone
to the house in Maida Vale to blackmail them. I guessed what had happened
then--Parslett, to quieten him for the moment, had been put off with fifty
pounds in gold, and promised more--and he had also been skilfully poisoned
in such a fashion that he would get safely away from the premises but die
before he got home. And when he was safe away, Chang Li had murdered Chen
Li, and made off. So--as I still think--all our theories were correct, and
the only thing to do was to find Chang."

But here Levendale paused, glanced at Stephen Purvis, and spread out his
hands with a gesture which indicated failure and disappointment. His
glance moved from Stephen Purvis to the police officials.

"All no good!" he exclaimed. "It's useless to deny it. I have been in
every Chinese den and haunt in East London--I'm certain that Chang Li is
nowhere down there. I have spent money like water--employed Chinese and
Easterns on whom I could depend--there isn't a trace of him! And so--we
gave up last night. Purvis and I--baffled. We've come to you police
people--"

"You should have done that before, Mr. Levendale," said the Inspector
severely. "You haven't given us much credit, I think, and if you'd told
all this at first--"

Before the Inspector could say more, a constable tapped at the door and
put his head into the room. His eyes sought Ayscough.

"There's a young gentleman--foreigner--asking for you, Mr. Ayscough," he
said. "Wants to see you at once--name of Mr. Yada."



CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE


YADA TAKES CHARGE

Ayscough had only time to give a warning look and a word to the others
before Mr. Mori Yada was ushered in. Every eye was turned on him as he
entered--some of the men present looking at him with wonder, some with
curiosity, two, at any rate--Levendale and Stephen Purvis--with doubt. But
Yada himself was to all outward appearance utterly indifferent to the
glances thrown in his direction: it seemed to John Purdie, who was
remembering all he had heard the night before, that the young Japanese
medical student was a singularly cool and self-possessed hand. Yada,
indeed, might have been walking in on an assemblage of personal friends,
specially gathered together in his honour. Melky Rubinstein, who was also
watching him closely, noticed at once that he had evidently made a very
careful toilet that morning. Yada's dark overcoat, thrown negligently
open, revealed a smart grey lounge suit; in one gloved hand he carried a
new bowler hat, in the other a carefully rolled umbrella. He looked as
prosperous and as severely in mode as if no mysteries and underground
affairs had power to touch him, and the ready smile with which he greeted
Ayscough was ingenuous and candid enough to disarm the most suspicious.

"Good morning, Mr. Detective," he began, as he crossed the threshold and
looked first at Ayscough and then at the ring of attentive faces. "I want
to speak to you on that little affair of last night, you know. I suppose
you are discussing it with these gentlemen? Well, perhaps I can now give
you some information that will be useful."

"Glad to hear anything, Mr. Yada," said Ayscough, who was striving hard to
conceal his surprise. "Anything that you can tell us. You've heard
something during the night, then?"

Yada laughed pleasantly, showing his white teeth. He dropped into the
chair which Ayscough pushed forward, and slowly drew off his gloves.

"I assured myself of something last night--after you left me," he said,
with a knowing look. "I used your card to advantage, Mr. Detective. I went
to the mortuary."

Ayscough contrived to signal to the Inspector to leave the talking to him.
He put his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, assumed an easy
attitude as he leaned against the door, and looked speculatively at the
new comer.

"Aye?--and what made you do that now, Mr. Yada?" he asked, half-
carelessly. "A bit of curiosity, eh?"

"Not idle curiosity, Mr. Detective," replied Yada. "I wanted to know, to
make certain, which of the two Chinamen it really was who was there--dead.
I saw him. Now I know. Chen Li!"

"Well?" said Ayscough.

Yada suddenly twisted round in his chair, and slowly glanced at the
listening men on either side of the desk. They were cool, bold, half-
insolent eyes which received face after face, showing no recognition of
any until they encountered Melky Rubinstein's watchful countenance. And to
Melky, Yada accorded a slight nod--and turned to Ayscough again.

"Which," he asked calmly, "which of these gentlemen is the owner of the
diamond? Which is the one who has lost eighty thousand pounds in bank-
notes? That is what I want to know before I say more."

In the silence which followed upon Ayscough's obvious doubt about
answering this direct question, Levendale let out a sharp, half-irritable
exclamation:

"In God's name!" he said, "who is this young man? What does he know about
the diamond and the money?"

Yada turned and faced his questioner--and suddenly smiling, thrust his
hand in his breast pocket and drew out a card-case. With a polite bow he
handed a card in Levendale's direction.

"Permit me, sir," he said suavely. "My card. As for the rest, perhaps Mr.
Detective here will tell you."

"It's this way, you see, Mr. Levendale," remarked Ayscough. "Acting on
information received from Dr. Pittery, one of the junior house-surgeons at
University College Hospital, who told me that Mr. Yada was a fellow-
student of those two Chinese, and a bit of a friend of theirs, I called on
Mr. Yada last night to make enquiries. And of course I had to tell him
about the missing property--though to be sure, that's news that's common
to everybody now--through the papers. And--what else have you to tell, Mr.
Yada?"

But Yada was watching Levendale--who, on his part, was just as narrowly
watching Yada. The other men in the room watched these two--recognizing,
as if by instinct, that from that moment matters lay between Levendale and
Yada, and not between Yada and Ayscough. They were mutually inspecting and
appraising each other, and in spite of their impassive faces, it was plain
that each was wondering about his next move.

It was Levendale who spoke first--spoke as if he and the young Japanese
were the only people in the room, as if nothing else mattered. He bent
forward to Yada.

"How much do you know?" he demanded.

Yada showed his white teeth again.

"A plain--and a wide question, Mr. Levendale!" he answered, with a laugh.
"I see that you are anxious to enlist my services. Evidently, you believe
that I do know something. But--you are not the owner of the diamond! Which
of these gentlemen is?"

Levendale made a half impatient gesture towards Stephen Purvis, who nodded
at Yada but remained silent.

"He is!" said Levendale, testily. "But you--can do your talking to me.
Again--how much do you know in this matter?"

"Enough to make it worth your while to negotiate with me," answered Yada.
"Is that as plain as your question?"

"It's what I expected," said Levendale. "You want to sell your knowledge."

"Well?" assented Yada, "I am very sure you are willing to purchase."

Once more that duel of the eyes--and to John Purdie, who prided himself on
being a judge of expressions, it was evident that the younger man was more
than the equal of the older. It was Levendale who gave way--and when he
took his eyes off Yada, it was to turn to Stephen Purvis.

Stephen Purvis nodded his head once more--and growled a little.

"Make terms with him!" he muttered. "Case of have to, I reckon!"

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