Kitabı oku: «The Great Court Scandal», sayfa 13

Chapter Twenty Four
Romance and Reality

Roddy Redmayne, having returned safely from abroad, was living in quiet seclusion with Guy in apartments in a small, pleasantly situated cottage beyond West Worthing, on the dusty road to Goring. Immediately on his arrival from Hull he had gone to Brighton, but after a few days had taken apartments in the ancient little place, with its old-world garden filled with roses.

Both he and Guy, under assumed names, of course, represented themselves as clerks down from London, spending their summer holidays, and certainly their flannel suits, white shoes, and Panama hats gave them that appearance. Kinder was in hiding in a house up in Newcastle-on-Tyne, having crossed to that port from Antwerp. The Baroness’s jewels, which were a particularly fine lot, had been disposed of to certain agents in Leyden, and therefore Roddy and his friends were in funds, though they gave no sign of wealth to their landlady, the thrifty wife of a cab proprietor.

It was a very pleasant little cottage, standing quite alone, and as the two men were the only lodgers they were quite free to do as they liked. The greater part of the day they smoked and read under the trees in the big, old-fashioned garden, and at evening would walk together into Worthing, and generally met Claire upon the pier.

“Madame,” as they called her, went with Leucha several times and lunched with them at the little place, while once or twice they had had the honour of dining at her table, when they had found her a most charming hostess. Both men tried to do all they could to render her what little services lay in their power, and each day they sent her from the florist’s large bunches of tea-roses, her favourite flowers. Little Ignatia was not forgotten, for they sent her dolls and toys.

Claire’s life was now at last calm and peaceful, with her three strange friends. Leucha was most attentive to Ignatia, and took her each morning for a run with bare feet upon the sands, while the two men who seldom, if ever, went out before dusk, generally met her and walked with her after dinner beside the sea.

Often, when alone, she wondered how her husband fared at Treysa, and how Carl was enduring the broiling heat of the long, thirsty Italian summer. Where was that traitress, the Trauttenberg, and what, she wondered, had become of those two faithful servants, Allen and Henriette? Her past unhappiness at Treysa sometimes arose before her like some hideous but half-remembered dream. In those days she lived among enemies, but now she was with friends, even though they might be outlawed from society. With all her timid flexibility and soft acquiescence Claire was not weak; for the negative alone is weak, and the mere presence of goodness and affection implies in itself a species of power, power with repose – that soul of grace.

Many a pleasant stroll after sundown she took with the courtly old adventurer, who looked quite a gay old dog in his flannels and rakish Panama pulled down over his eyes; or with Guy, who dressed a trifle more quietly. The last-named, however, preferred, of course, the society of Leucha, and frequently walked behind with her. Claire treated Roddy’s daughter more as an equal than as a dependant – indeed, treated her as her lady-in-waiting, to fetch and carry for her, to tie her veil, to button her gloves, and to perform the thousand and one little services which the trained lady-in-waiting does so deftly and without ceremony.

Though at first very strange to the world, Claire was now beginning to realise its ways, and to enjoy and appreciate more and more the freedom which she had at last gained. She delighted in those evening walks beneath the stars, when they would rest upon a seat, listening to the soft music of the sea, and watching the flashing light of the Owers and the bright beacon on Selsea Bill.

Yes, life in the obscurity of Worthing was indeed far preferable to the glare and glitter of the Court at Treysa. The people in the town – shopkeepers and others – soon began to know Madame Bernard by sight, and so many were her kindly actions that the common people on the promenade – cabmen, baggage-porters, bath-chair men, and the like – touched their hats to her in respect, little dreaming that the beautiful, sweet-faced foreigner with the pretty child was actually queen of a German kingdom.

As the summer days went by, and the two men met her each evening at the entrance to the pier, she could not close her eyes to the fact that the affection between Guy and Leucha had increased until it now amounted to a veritable passion. They loved each other both truly and well, yet what could be done? There was, alas! the ghastly barrier of want between them – a barrier which, in this cruel, hard world of ours, divides so many true and loving hearts.

And as those peaceful summer days went by, the two strangers, a man and a woman, who lived at separate hotels, and only met on rare occasions, were ever watchful, noting and reporting the Queen’s every action, and keeping close observation upon the two men who were living at that rose-embowered cottage in calm ignorance of the dastardly betrayal that was being so ingeniously planned.

One evening, just before she sat down to dinner, the maidservant handed her a letter with a Belgian stamp, and opening it, she saw that enclosed was a communication from the faithful Steinbach.

She tore open the envelope with breathless eagerness, and read as follows: —

“Your Majesty. – In greatest haste I send you warning to acquaint you with another fresh conspiracy, the exact nature of which I am at present unaware. Confidential papers have, however, to-day passed through my hands in the Ministry – a report for transmission to Crispendorf, in London. This report alleges that you are unduly friendly with a certain Englishman named Guy Bourne, said to be living in the town of Worthing, in the county of Sussex. This is all I can at present discover, but it will, I trust, be sufficient to apprise you that your enemies have discovered your whereabouts, and are still seeking to crush you. The instant I can gather more I will report further. Your Majesty’s most humble and obedient servant. – S.”

She bit her lip. Then they had discovered her, and, moreover, were trying now to couple her name with Bourne’s! It was cruel, unjust, inhuman. In such a mind as hers the sense of a cruel injury, inflicted by one she had loved and trusted, without awakening any violent anger or any desire of vengeance, sank deep – almost incurably and lastingly deep.

Leucha, who entered the room at that moment, noticed her grave expression as she held the letter in her hand, but was silent.

The tender and virtuous woman re-read those fateful lines, and reflected deeply. Steinbach was faithful to her, and had given her timely warning. Yes, she had on many occasions walked alone with Guy along the promenade, and he had, unseen by any one, kissed her hand in homage of her royal station. She fully recognised that, unscrupulous liars as her enemies were, they might start another scandal against her as cruel as that concerning Carl Leitolf.

She had little appetite for dinner but afterwards, when she went out with Leucha into the warm summer’s night, and, as usual, they met the two men idling near the pier, she took Guy aside and walked with him at some distance behind Roddy and his daughter.

At first their conversation was as usual, upon the doings of the day. She gave him permission to smoke, and he lit his cigar, the light of the match illuminating his face.

It was a delightful August night, almost windless, and with a crescent moon and calm sea, while from the pier there came across the waters the strains of one of the latest waltzes. She was dressed all in white, and Guy, glancing at her now and then, thought he had never seen her looking more graceful and beautiful. Nevertheless her Imperial blood betrayed itself always in her bearing, even on those occasions when she had disguised herself in her maid’s gowns.

Presently, when father and daughter were some distance ahead, she turned to him and, looking into his countenance, said very seriously, —

“Much as I regret it, Mr Bourne, our very pleasant evenings here must end. This is our last walk together.”

“What! Madame!” he exclaimed. “Are you leaving?” and he halted in surprise.

“I hardly know yet,” she replied, just a trifle confused, for she hesitated to tell the cruel truth to this man who had once risked his life for hers. “It is not, however, because I am leaving, but our parting is imperative, because – well – for the sake of both of us.”

“I don’t quite follow your Majesty,” he said, looking inquiringly at her. They were quite alone, at a spot where there were no promenaders.

“No,” she sighed. “I expect not. I must be more plain, although it pains me to be so. The fact is that my enemies at Court have learnt that we are friends, and are now endeavouring to couple our names – you and I. Is it not scandalous – when you love Leucha?”

“What!” he cried, starting back amazed. “They are actually endeavouring to again besmirch your good name! Ah! I see! They say that I am your latest lover – eh? Tell me the truth,” he urged fiercely. “These liars say that you are in love with me! They don’t know who I am,” he laughed bitterly. “I, a thief – and you, a sovereign!”

“They are enemies, and will utter any lies to create scandal concerning me,” she said, with quiet resignation. “For that reason we must not be seen together. To you, Mr Bourne, I owe my life – a debt that I fear I shall never be able to sufficiently repay. Mr Redmayne and yourself have been very kind and generous to me, a friendless woman, and yet I am forced by circumstances to withdraw my friendship because of this latest plot conceived by the people who have so ingeniously plotted my ruin. As you know, they declared that Count Leitolf was my lover, but I swear before God that he was only my friend – my dear, devoted friend, just as I believe that you yourself are. And yet,” she sighed, “it is so very easy to cast scandal against a woman, be she a seamstress or of the blood royal.”

“I am certainly your devoted friend,” the man declared in a clear, earnest tone. “You are misjudged and ill-treated, therefore it is my duty as a man, who, I hope, still retains some of the chivalry of a gentleman, to stand your champion.”

“In this, you, alas! cannot – you would only compromise me,” she declared, shaking her head sadly.

“We must part. You and Mr Redmayne are safe here. Therefore I shall to-morrow leave Worthing.”

“But this is dastardly!” he cried in fierce resentment. “Are you to live always in this glass house, for your enemies to hound you from place to place, because a man dares to admire your beauty? What is your future to be?”

She fixed her calm gaze upon him in the pale moonlight.

“Who can tell?” she sighed sadly. “For the present we must think only of the present. My enemies have discovered me, therefore it is imperative that we should part. Yet before doing so I want to thank you very much for all the services you and Mr Redmayne have rendered me. Rest assured that they will never be forgotten – never.”

Roddy and Leucha had seated themselves upon a seat facing the beach, and they were now slowly approaching them.

“I hardly know how to take leave of you,” Guy said, speaking slowly and very earnestly. “You, on your part, have been so good and generous to Leucha and myself. If these scandalmongers only knew that she loved me and that I reciprocated her affection, they surely would not seek to propagate this shameful report concerning us.”

“It would make no difference to them,” she declared in a low, hoarse voice of grief. “For their purposes – in order that I shall be condemned as worthless, and prevented from returning to Treysa – they must continue to invent their vile fictions against my honour as a woman.”

“The fiends!” he cried fiercely. “But you shall be even with them yet! They fear you – and they shall, one day, have just cause for their fears. We will assist you – Roddy and I. We will together prove your honesty and innocence before the whole world.”

They gained the seat whereon Leucha and her father were sitting, and Claire sat down to rest before the softly sighing sea, while her companion stood, she having forgotten to give him permission to be seated. She was so unconventional that she often overlooked such points, and, to her intimate friends, would suddenly laugh and apologise for her forgetfulness.

While all four were chatting and laughing together – for Roddy had related a droll incident he had witnessed that day out at Goring – there came along the sea-path two figures of men, visitors like themselves, judging from their white linen trousers and straw hats. Their approach was quite unnoticed until of a sudden they both halted before the group, and one of them, a brown-bearded man, stepping up to the younger man, said, in a stern, determined voice, —

“I identify you as Guy Bourne. I am Inspector Sinclair of the Criminal Investigation Department, and I hold a warrant for your arrest for jewel robbery!” Claire gave vent to a low cry of despair, while Leucha sprang up and clung to the man she loved. But at that same instant three other men appeared out of the deep shadows, while one of them, addressing Roddy, who in an instant had jumped to his feet, said, —

“I’m Detective-sergeant Plummer. I identify you as Roddy Redmayne, alias Scott-Martin, alias Ward. I arrest you on a charge of jewel robbery committed within the German Empire. Whatever statement you may make will be used in evidence against you on your trial.” Both men were so utterly staggered that neither spoke a word. Their arrest had been so quickly and quietly effected that they had no opportunity to offer resistance, and even if they had they would have been outnumbered.

Roddy uttered a fierce imprecation beneath his breath, but Guy, turning sadly to Claire, merely shrugged his shoulders, and remarked bitterly, —

“It is Fate, I suppose!”

And the two men were compelled to walk back with a detective on either side of them, while Leucha, in a passion of tears, crushed and heart-broken, followed with her grave-faced mistress – a sad, mournful procession.

Claire spoke to them both – kind, encouraging words, urging them to take courage – whereupon one of the detectives said, —

“I really think it would be better if you left us, madam.” But she refused, and walked on behind them, watched from a distance by the German agent Stieger and Rose Reinherz, and, alas! in ignorance of the vile, despicable plot of Hinckeldeym – the plot that was to ruin her for ever in the eyes of her people.

Chapter Twenty Five
Some Ugly Truths

Poor Leucha was beside herself with grief, for she, alas! knew too well the many serious charges upon which her father and her lover were wanted. Both would receive long terms of penal servitude. Against them stood a very ugly list of previous convictions, and for jewel robbery, judges were never lenient.

Claire was in deadly fear that Roddy’s daughter might also be arrested for the part she had played in the various affairs, but it appeared that the information received by the police did not extend to “the Ladybird.”

The blow was complete. It had fallen and crushed them all.

That night Leucha lay awake, reflecting upon all that might be brought against the pair – the Forbes affair, when the fine pearls of Mrs Stockton-Forbes, the wife of the American railroad king, were stolen from the house in Park Lane; the matter of the Countess of Henham’s diamonds; the theft of Lady Maitland’s emeralds, and a dozen other clever jewel robberies that had from time to time startled readers of the newspapers.

Claire, on her part, also lay wondering – wondering how best to act in order to extricate the man who had so gallantly risked his life to save hers, and the easy-going old thief who had showed her such great kindness and consideration. Could she extricate them? No; she saw it was quite impossible. The English police and judges could not be bribed, as she had heard they could be in some countries. The outlook was hopeless – utterly and absolutely hopeless. Somebody had betrayed them. Both men had declared so, after their arrest. They had either been recognised and watched, or else some enemy had pointed them out to the police. In either case it was the same. A long term of imprisonment awaited both of them.

Though they were thieves, and as such culpable, yet she felt that she had now lost her only friends.

Next morning, rising early, she sent Leucha to the police station to inquire when they would be brought before the magistrate. To her surprise, however, “the Ladybird” brought back the reply that they had been taken up to London by the six o’clock train that morning, in order to be charged in the Extradition Court at Bow Street – the Court reserved for prisoners whose extradition was demanded by foreign Governments.

Post-haste, leaving little Ignatia in charge of the landlady and the parlour-maid, Madame Bernard and Leucha took the express to London, and were present in the grim, sombre police court when the chief magistrate, a pleasant-faced, white-headed old gentleman, took his seat, and the two prisoners were placed in the dock.

Guy’s dark eyes met Claire’s, and he started, turning his face away with shame at his position. She was a royal sovereign, and he, after all, only a thief. He had been unworthy her regard. Roddy saw her also, but made no sign. He feared lest his daughter might be recognised as the ingenious woman who had so cleverly acted as their spy and accomplice, and was annoyed that she should have risked coming there.

The men were formally charged – Redmayne with being concerned with two other men, not in custody, in stealing a quantity of jewellery, the property of the Baroness Ackermann, at Uhlenhorst, outside Hamburg.

The charge against Guy Bourne was “that he did, on June 16th, 1903, steal certain jewellery belonging to one Joseph Hirsch of Eugendorf.”

In dry, hard tones Mr Gore-Palmer, barrister, who appeared on behalf of the German Embassy, opened the case.

“Your Worship,” counsel said, “I do not propose to go into great length with the present case to-day. I appear on behalf of the German Imperial Embassy in London to apply for the extradition of these men, Redmayne and Bourne, for extensive thefts of jewels within the German Empire. The police will furnish evidence to you that they are members of a well-known, daring, and highly ingenious international gang, who operate mainly at the large railway stations on the Continent, and have, it is believed, various accomplices, who take places as domestic servants in the houses of persons known to be in possession of valuable jewellery. For the last two years active search has been made for them; but they have always succeeded in eluding the vigilance of the police until last night, when they were apprehended at Worthing, and brought to this Court. The first case, that against Redmayne, is that one of the gang, a woman unknown, entered the service of the Baroness Ackermann in London, and after a few weeks accompanied her to Hamburg, where, on discovering where this lady kept her jewels, she made an excuse that her mother was dying, and returned to England. Eight months afterwards, however, the prisoner Redmayne, alias Ward, alias Scott-Martin, made a daring entry into the house while the family were at dinner, opened the safe, and escaped with the whole of its precious contents, some of which were afterwards disposed of in Leyden and in Amsterdam. The charge against Bourne is that, on the date named, he was at the Cologne railway station, awaiting the express from Berlin, and on its arrival snatched the dressing-case from the Countess de Wallwitz’s footman and made off with it. The servant saw the man, and at the police-office afterwards identified a photograph which had been supplied to the German police from Scotland Yard as that of a dangerous criminal. Against both men are a number of charges for robbery in various parts of France and Germany, one against Bourne being the daring theft, three years ago, of a very valuable ruby pendant from the shop of a jeweller named Hirsch, in the town of Eugendorf, in the Kingdom of Marburg. This latter offence, as your Worship will see, has been added to the charge against Bourne, and the Imperial German Government rely upon your Worship granting the extradition sought for under the Acts of 1870 and 1873, and the Treaty of 1876.” Mention of the town of Eugendorf caused Claire to start quickly. He had actually been guilty of theft in her own Kingdom! For that reason, then, he had escaped from Treysa the instant he was well enough to leave the hospital.

“I have here,” continued counsel, “a quantity of evidence taken on commission before British Consuls in Germany, which I will put in, and I propose also to call a servant of the Baroness Ackermann and the jeweller Hirsch, both of whom are now in the precincts of the Court. I may add that the Imperial German Government have, through their Ambassador, made diplomatic representations to the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, as they attach the greatest importance to this case. The men, if my instructions are correct, will be found to be the leaders of a very dangerous and daring gang, who operate mostly in Germany, and seek refuge here, in their own country. I therefore hope that your Worship, after reading the depositions and hearing the evidence, will make the order for them to be handed over to the German authorities to be dealt with.”

“I must have direct evidence,” remarked the magistrate. “Evidence on commission is not sufficient. They are both British subjects, remember.”

“I have direct evidence of identification against each prisoner,” counsel replied. “I take it that your Worship will be obliged to adjourn the case for seven days, as usual; and if further evidence is required from Germany, it will be forthcoming.”

“Very well,” said the magistrate, taking the mass of documents handed to him, and proceeding to hear the formal evidence of arrest, as given by the inspector and sergeant from New Scotland Yard.

Afterwards the interpreter of the Court was sworn, and following him a tall, clean-shaven, yellow-haired German entered the witness-box, and gave his name as Max Wolff, in the employ of the Baroness Ackermann, of Uhlenhorst, near Hamburg. The instant “the Ladybird” saw him she made an excuse to Claire, and rising, escaped from the Court. They had been in service together, and he might recognise her!

The man’s evidence, being translated into English, showed that suspicion fell upon an English maid the Baroness had engaged in London, and who, a few days after arriving in Hamburg, suddenly returned. Indeed, she had one day been seen examining the lock of the safe; and it was believed that she had taken an impression of the key, for when the robbery was committed, some months later, the safe was evidently opened by means of a duplicate key.

“And do you identify either of the prisoners?” inquired the magistrate.

“I identify the elder one. I came face to face with him coming down the principal staircase with a bag in his hand. I was about to give the alarm; but he drew a revolver, and threatened to blow out my brains if I uttered a word.”

The accused man’s face relaxed into a sickly smile.

“And you were silent?”

“For the moment, yes. Next second he was out into the road, and took to the open country. I am quite certain he is the man; I would know him among ten thousand.”

“And you have heard nothing of this English lady’s maid since?” asked the magistrate.

“No; she disappeared after, as we suppose, taking the impression of the key.”

The next witness was a short, stout, dark-faced man with a shiny bald head, evidently a Jew. He was Joseph Hirsch, jeweller, of the Sternstrasse, Eugendorf, and he described how, on a certain evening, the prisoner Bourne – whom he identified – had entered his shop. He took him to be a wealthy Englishman travelling for pleasure, and showed him some of his best goods, including a ruby pendant worth about fifty thousand marks. The prisoner examined it well, but saying that the light was not good, and that he preferred to return next morning and examine it in the daylight, he put it down and went out. A quarter of an hour later, however, he had discovered, to his utter dismay, that the pendant had been cleverly palmed, and in its place in the case was left a cheap ornament, almost a replica, but of brass and pieces of red glass. He at once took train to Treysa and informed the chief of police, who showed him a photograph of the prisoner – a copy of one circulated by Scotland Yard.

“And do you see in Court the man who stole the pendant?” asked the magistrate.

“Yes; he is there,” the Jew replied in German – “the younger of the two.”

“You have not recovered your property?”

“No, sir.”

The court was not crowded. The London public take little or no interest in the Extradition Court. The magistrate glanced across at the well-dressed lady in dark grey who sat alone upon one of the benches, and wondered who she might be. Afterwards one of the detectives informed him privately that she had been with the men at Worthing when they were arrested.

“I do not know, your Worship, if you require any further evidence,” exclaimed Mr Gore-Palmer, again rising. “Perhaps you will glance at the evidence taken on commission before the British Consul-General at Treysa, the British Consul in Hamburg, and the British Vice-Consul at Cologne. I venture to think that in face of the evidence of identification you have just heard, you will be convinced that the German Government have a just right to apply for the extradition of these two persons.”

He then resumed his seat, while the white-headed old gentleman on the bench carefully went through folio after folio of the signed and stamped documents, each with its certified English translation and green Consular stamps.

Presently, when about half-way through the documents, he removed his gold pince-nez, and looking across at counsel, asked, —

“Mr Gore-Palmer, I am not quite clear upon one point. For whom do you appear to prosecute – for the Imperial German Government, or for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of Marburg?”

“I appear for both, your Worship, but I am instructed by the latter.”

“By the Minister Stuhlmann himself, on behalf of the Government – not by Herr Hirsch?”

“Yes, your Worship, by the Minister himself, who is determined to crush out the continually increasing crimes committed by foreign criminals who enter the Kingdom in the guise of tourists, as in the case of the present prisoners.”

Claire, when counsel’s explanation fell upon her ears, sat upright, pale and rigid.

She recollected Steinbach’s warning, and in an instant the vile, dastardly plot of Hinckeldeym and his creatures became revealed to her.

They would condemn this man to whom she owed her life as a low-bred thief, and at the same time declare that he was her latest lover!

For her it was the end of all things – the very end!