The Mystery of the Stolen Dowry (A Jules Poiret Mystery Book 35) Read online

  When there is a mystery to be solved, the average Englishman almost invariably places it in the hands of Scotland Yard. This was exactly what happened in the case of Miss Caroline Skegby’s diamonds. For two months the regular police were not only dazed, but they openly sounded the alarm to every thief in Europe. All pawnbrokers’ shops in England were ransacked, and such a fuss was kicked up, such a furor created, that it is no wonder the thief lay low, and said nothing. The police watched in vain all ports giving access to the Continent, they warned in vain the police of France, Belgium, and Holland to look out for this necklace. Two valuable months were lost, and then the Lord of Birstall sent for my employer, detective Jules Poiret.

  It may be asked why the Lord of Birstall allowed Scotland Yard to continue on for two precious months, but anyone who is acquainted with this particular nobleman will not be surprised that he clung so long to a lost cause. Very few Englishmen are richer than Lord Birstall, and still fewer more close-fisted. He maintained that, as he paid his taxes, he was entitled to protection from theft. He told the newspapers that it was the duty of the Government to restore the gems, and if this proved impossible, to give him compensation for them. This demand was quickly rejected.

  When Poiret and I arrived at Birstall Place, as his lordship’s unattractive and modern house was termed, we were immediately admitted to his study. Poiret had been summoned from London by a letter in the lord’s own hand, on which the postage was not paid. It was late in the afternoon, when we arrived, and our first meeting was quite useless. It was taken up entirely with haggling about the fee. The lord tried to bargain down the price of Poiret’s services to a sum so insignificant that it would barely have paid our train tickets from London to Birstall and back. Such haggling was intensely distasteful to my employer. When the lord found all his offers declined with an indignation, which at last left no opening for doubt in his mind, darkness had come on, and the gong rang for dinner. Poiret and I dined alone in a small dining room, which apparently was used for those visiting the mansion for reasons of business, and the meagerness of the food, together with the cheap bottle of white wine, strengthened Poiret’s determination to return to London as early as possible next morning.

  When the meal was finished, a dignified servant walked in and said gravely to Poiret, “Miss Caroline asks if you will be good enough to meet her in the drawing-room, sir.”

  We followed the man to the drawing-room, and found the young lady seated at the piano, on which she was strumming idly and absentmindedly, but with a touch, nevertheless, that indicated an advanced education in music. She was not dressed as one who had just risen from the dining table, but was somewhat commonly attired, looking more like a doctor’s daughter than a member of an illustrious family. Though pretty to behold, her neck was too long, her head was rather small for a woman her age, and crowned with a mass of dark hair. My first impression on entering the large, rather dimly lit room was unfavorable. Poiret, however, instantly fell under the charm of her manner, which was so graceful and vivacious, he behaved as if he was standing in a brilliant London salon rather than in the somber drawing-room of an English country house. I could see that every poise of her pretty head, every gesture of her small, perfect hands, every tone of her voice, whether sparkling with laughter or tender in conversational speech, reminded him of the great ladies of the big city.

  “Is it not strange to find this perfect flower amidst the gloom of this huge square house?” he whispered to me.

  “Welcome, Mr. Poiret,” she cried in faultless intonation. “I’m so glad you have arrived,” and she greeted him as if he were an old friend of the family. My reception was somewhat cooler. Though there was nothing of condescension in her manner towards either of us, at the same time she let us know our place, and the difference in our stations in life.

  Poiret, bending over her slender hand, said, “Lady Birstall, it is the privilege to extend to you the most respectful salutations of Poiret.”

  She laughed at this quietly, with the melting laugh of a nightingale.

  “Sir, you mistake my title and name. Although my uncle is Lord Birstall, I am only Miss Caroline Skegby.”

  “Poiret, he humbly begs your pardon, Mademoiselle. For a moment he was back in that glittering palace, which surrounded Louis Quatorze.”

  “How flatteringly you introduce yourself, sir. In the library upstairs there are paintings of that period, and when I show them to you tomorrow, you will then understand how charmingly you have pleased a vain woman by your reference to those beautiful ladies. But I must not talk in this way, sir. There is serious business to be considered, and I assure you I looked forward to your arrival, sir, with the eagerness of a captive on a pirate ship.”

  The expression on Poiret’s face as he bowed to her betrayed his gratification at hearing these words, so confidentially uttered by her lips so red, while the glance of her lovely eyes was even more eloquent than her words. Instantly I could feel his shame of his haggling over terms with her uncle. I could see he had already forgotten his decision to leave early next morning. I could see that he would give what assistance he could to this beautiful young woman.

  I knew about his weakness, his heart melting for every young woman’s cry for help. He knew it too and many times he told me, “The heart of Poiret, mon ami, it is today as unprotected against the artillery of the female eyes as ever it was in his youth.”

  “This house,” she continued cheerfully, “has been practically under siege for two months. I could take none of my usual walks in our garden, without some clumsy policeman in uniform thrashing his way through the bushes, or some inspector in plain clothes confronting me and questioning me under the guise that he was a stranger, who had lost his way. The lack of imagination in our police is something deplorable. I’m sure dozens of real criminals have passed through their hands unquestioned, while I and our poor servants were made to feel that the eye of the law was upon us day and night.”

  The face of the young lady was an enchanting expression of indignation. I could see the smile on Poiret’s face widen in agreement.

  “Sir,” she went on, “I tell you they sent down from London an army of stupid men, who kept our house in a state of sheer terror for eight long weeks, and with what result? No diamonds!”

  As she suddenly asked this question, with a little gesture of her hand, a flash of her sparkling eye, and a toss of the head, the united effect was to bring Poiret to his knees and his feelings were only too visible on his face.

  “Your arrival, Mr. Poiret, has sent these dreadful coppers fleeing, if, indeed, the word flight is not too light a term to use towards a group so flat-footed, and I assure you a sigh of relief has gone up from the whole household with the exception of my uncle. I’ve said many times to him at dinner, “If we can induce Mr. Poiret to take an interest in the case, the jewels will be back in my possession tomorrow.”

  “Ah, Mademoiselle,” Poiret protested, “Poiret, you overrate his abilities, perhaps. It is quite true that if Poiret had been called in on the night of the robbery, his chances of finding the diamonds would have been greater than they are now.”

  “Mr. Poiret,” she cried, clasping her hands over her knees, and leaning towards Poiret, looking at him with her starry eyes, “I’m perfectly confident that before the week has past you will give me back my necklace. I have believed in you from the first time your name was brought up. Now, am I right, sir, that you come here only with your valet?” She nodded at me, and added, “Please tell me you do not bring with you no train of followers and assistants.”

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p; “C’est la verite, Mademoiselle!”

  “Thank God for you, Mr. Poiret. I was sure of it. It will be a contest between a highly sophisticated mind at work as opposed to our experience of the last two months, which was of brute police force.”

  I could see that Poiret never before had felt such ambition to succeed, and, seeing him look in the young woman’s blazing eyes, I could also see a determination not to disappoint slowly take full possession of him. Appreciation was a cherished poison, and here it was offered to him in its most intoxicating form.

  “Has my uncle acquainted you with the details of the robbery?”

  “No, Mademoiselle, we have been talking of other things,” he replied.

  The young woman leaned back in her chair, partially closed her eyes, and breathed a deep sigh.

  “I can well imagine the subject of your conversation,” she said, shaking her head. “My uncle was probably trying to impose the most unacceptable terms upon you, while you, valiantly rejecting such mercenary considerations, have perhaps already decided to leave us at the earliest opportunity.”

  “Mademoiselle, please let Poiret assure you, that if any such conclusion had been arrived at, it vanished the moment he had the honor to set foot in your presence.”

  “It is kind of you to say that, sir, but you must not allow your conversation with my uncle to prejudice you against him. He’s an old man now, and, of course, has his faults. You would think him harsh, perhaps, and so he is. He is fond of money, and so am I, but you see, Mr. Poiret, we both love money for different reasons. He is fond of money to hoard it, while I’m fond of money to spend it. I’m fond of money for the things it can buy. I should love a manor house in the country, and a mansion overlooking Regent’s Park in London. I should like to scatter money like gold dust in the air, if it would make everyone around me happy.”

  “Mademoiselle Caroline, your defense of the love for the money, it is admirable.”

  The young woman shook her head and laughed merrily.

  “I would so dislike to disappoint you, Mr. Poiret, and therefore I shall not tell you the depth of my love. You will learn that from my uncle, and then you will understand how much the loss of my jewels have made me suffer.”

  “Are they very valuable?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes! The necklace consists of twenty stones, all of them the size of a fingernail. Altogether, I believe, they amount to nearly forty thousand pounds, yet even this sum is trivial compared with what it involves. There is much more at stake, together with my dream house in the country, and my equally coveted mansion in London. All this is within the realm of possibilities, if you can recover the diamonds for me.”

  The young woman blushed prettily as she noticed how intently Poiret looked at her while she told her charming tale. There was a trace of embarrassment in her laugh when she said, “Oh, Mr. Poiret, what will you think of me when you understand the situation? Please do not judge me too harshly. I must take my courage in both hands, and give you all the particulars of the case, but not tonight. Of course, if one is to solve such a mystery as that in which I find myself, he must be made aware of every detail, must he not, sir?”

  “Bien sur, Mademoiselle.”

  “Very well, Mr. Poiret, I shall supply you with any information my uncle may try to hide from you. There is, however, one point on which I would like to warn you. Both my uncle and the police have made up their minds that a certain young man is the person responsible. The police say they found several clues, which apparently led in his direction, but they didn’t have enough to justify his arrest, Mr. Poiret. I never for a moment thought he had anything to do with the robbery at first, but lately I’m not so sure. All I ask for, Mr. Poiret, is that you preserve an open mind and don’t allow my uncle to prejudice you against him.”

  “What is the name of this young man, Mademoiselle?”

  “He is Master Theodosius Ficks.”

  “Master?” I asked.

  “Sea captain if you wish.” The young lady shook her head.

  “Is Poiret correct, Mademoiselle, that you are in the possession of certain facts unknown either to your uncle or the police?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pardonnez-moi, Mademoiselle, but do these facts tend to incriminate the young man?”

  The young lady leaned back in her chair, and gazed past us, a wrinkle of surprise entered her face. Then she said almost inaudibly, “You will understand, Mr. Poiret, I dislike to speak against a man, who was formerly a friend. If he had been content to remain just a friend, I’m sure this incident, which has caused us all such worry, would never have happened. I can only guess what my uncle will tell you about what was a very unpleasant episode, but Master Ficks is a poor man, and you will agree that it is quite out of the question for one brought up as I have been to marry a poor sea captain. He was headstrong, however, and involved my uncle in a bitter quarrel about it. You see, he’s not at all a sensible young man, and my friendship for him has ended. Yet I should dislike very much to harm him, therefore I have spoken to no one but you about the evidence that I have. Promise me, Mr. Poiret, that you will treat this as entirely confidential, giving no hint to my uncle, who is already angry enough at Mr. Ficks.”

  “And this evidence, Mademoiselle, it has convinced you that he stole the necklace?”

  “No,” she said, taking a cigarette from a small case on the table, which both Poiret and I offered to light for her. She held it close to Poiret’s burning lighter and blew the smoke in my direction. She smiled at Poiret in thanks. “I don’t believe that he actually stole it, but I’m convinced he was an accessory after the fact, is that the legal term, Mr. Poiret? But let us say no more tonight, for I shall not be able to sleep.”

  When Poiret and I retired to our rooms, I found that I, too, could not sleep. It is difficult for me to describe accurately the effect our meeting with the young heiress had on Poiret’s mind. It looked as if he had indulged too freely in a bottle of expensive champagne, which appeared exceedingly excellent at first, but from which the bubbles had now departed. No man could have been more completely under a spell than he was when Miss Caroline’s eyes first told him more than her lips revealed. I could see that her words regarding the sea captain, who desired to marry her jarred on him. I myself found my sympathy extending itself to that unknown young man, on whom it appeared the shadow of suspicion rested.

  “Poiret,” said the detective to me, “he is confident that if he had taken the diamonds it was not at all from motives of the greed. That it is shown by the fact that Scotland Yard, they have been unable to trace the jewels, which they may have done, if the collar, it had been sold, either as the whole or in the pieces.”

  Diamonds, the size of the ones in the Birstall Collar were by no means unusual. The Springfield diamond, for example, was at least twice as big, and the one owned by the Duke of Northwood measured two and a quarter inches through its greatest diameter. Nevertheless the Birstall diamonds were not to be disposed of very easily. Poiret, therefore, surmised no attempt had been made to sell them. Now that I had removed myself from the radiance of her presence, I began to suspect that the young lady, although undoubtedly possessing some of the beauty of her diamonds, also had something of their hardness. There had been no expression of any feelings of sympathy for her former, now banished admirer. It was evident to me, that her sole desire, and a perfectly normal desire, was to recover her missing treasure and nothing more. I felt sorry for my poor friend. I felt responsible for his wellbeing, and I resolved in the morning to question Lord Birstall shrewdly and failing to attain clear answers from him, I would question his niece in a somewhat clearer light than that which had enshrouded my friend during that evening.

  It was ten o’clock next morning, we had just breakfasted alone in our special dining room and Poiret was outside inspecting the grounds, when I was admitted to the study of the aged bachelor, the Lord of Birstall. His rapacious eyes looked through me as I seated myself before him.

  “Well!�
� he said sharply.

  “Sir,” I began hesitantly, “I know nothing more of the case than what was told to me by my associate Mr. Poiret, and what I read in the newspapers. It is correct to say that two months have gone by since the burglary took place.”

  “Yes, because these confounded coppers aren’t doing their duty. Do you wish me to give you the name of the criminal?” asked his lordship, harshly.

  “I say! You know the name of the thief, sir?” I asked eagerly.

  “Yes! Theodosius Ficks stole the necklace.”

  “Have you given that name to the police?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why, for Goodness sake, haven’t they arrested him?”

  “You tell me, my dear fellow, I can make head nor tail of their inactivity.”

  “But what evidence is there against him?”

  His lordship spoke with the agitation of a man, who did not wish to repeat himself and above all was already fed up with the issue after having given it his attention for two months.

  “The robbery was committed on the night of the fifth, two months ago. But you know this, I assume. All day there had been a heavy rain, and the grounds were wet. For reasons I wish not to disclose, Mr. Ficks was well acquainted with this house. He was also, unfortunately, popular with my servants, for he liked to toss them a coin once in a while. The estate of his older brother, Mr. George Ficks, adjoins my own to the west, and his house is about a mile from here. On the night of the fifth there was a dinner party given at his mansion, to celebrate his birthday and to which, of course, my niece and myself were invited. I have no quarrel with the elder brother, a marvelous chap, industrious, too, I might add. It was known to Mr. Theodosius Ficks that my niece would wear her diamond necklace. The robbery occurred while she was having her hair done by a hairdresser from out of town in the salon downstairs. Most of the servants, as we didn’t need them that night, were either allowed the night off or were in the kitchen. The night was exceptionally dark, because, although the rain had stopped, the dark clouds remained.”