The Sack of Monte Carlo 20

v

The Sack of Monte Carlo 20

“Not in the rooms?”

 

“Sir, they were there mid-day just before you came, and their behavior

was as scroopulous as the late Lord Nelson’s.”

 

“Was there any difficulty made about their cards?”

 

“Why, none whatever. They went in in pairs, and each told a different

lie: one pair were staying at the ‘Metropôle,’ another at the ‘de

Paris,’ and another at the ‘S. James.’ They were well coached and they

are brainy fellows. They were informed they must behave like ornaments

of high-toned society, and not expectorate on the floor; and they

paraded in couples, ejaculating _Haw, demmy!_”

 

“Really!” murmured Bailey Thompson, “these people deserve to be raided.

And that is your yacht, I suppose, lying off there—the _Amaranth_,

isn’t it?”

 

“That is the _Amaranth_, sir. At 9.30 to-morrow—I should say

Saturday!—_Saturday_ night, she will have orders to get as close up to

the shore as quickly as she can. If you will step this way, sir, down on

to the terrace here, we will have pleasure in showing you the spot

marked out by Nature and Providence for our retreat.”

 

When we showed him the board with _défense d’entrée au public_ on it,

the steps leading down on to the railway line, the broken piece of

embankment, so few feet above the shore, Bailey Thompson gave a low

whistle.

 

“Lord! how simple it is,” he murmured. “Now you’d think people would

take better care than that of property of such enormous value, wouldn’t

you?”

 

“Sir,” said Mr. Brentin, with magisterial emphasis, “in the simplicity

of the idea lies its grandeur. It is significant of poor human nature to

make difficulties for themselves; they neglect what lies at their feet,

ready to be carted away for the trouble. Everybody has heard of the man

who stood on your London Bridge offering sovereigns for a penny apiece,

and doing no trade in them; while we all know the Boer children played

for years with large diamonds, believing them to be white pebbles. Sir,

it’s the same thing here precisely, and that’s all there is to it.”

 

“I need hardly say, of course, that here there’s a good deal of risk,”

said Thompson. “You have naturally all of you thought well over that?”

 

“We have thought well over everything. If you care to attend the rooms

on Saturday—_Saturday_ night—at about ten, you will see for yourself

how complete in every respect our thought has been. And you will be

amused, I fancy, at the little scene you will witness, in which I will

undertake, Mr. Bailey Thompson, you shall be neither hurt nor hustled,”

added Mr. Brentin, considerately.

 

As we strolled back with Thompson to his hotel, I could, having some

sort of gift that way, see quite well what was passing in his mind.

 

After all, he said to himself, he was an English detective; why should

he interfere to protect a French company who couldn’t look after

themselves? Why, too, should he spoil gentlemen’s sport? They didn’t

want the money for themselves; they wanted it (as we had always been

careful to explain) for hospitals and good works generally. It wasn’t as

if we were vulgar cracksmen, long firm swindlers, gentry he had been

brought up to struggle with and defeat all his life. Hang it all! we

were gentlemen and had treated him well, quite as one of ourselves. We

had been frank and above-board, and had told him everything from the

first.

 

I could see it was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out: “Mr. Brentin

and Mr. Blacker! you have been quite frank with me, and, at any cost, I

will be quite frank with you. I am a detective from Scotland Yard, and

unless you promise me to give up this scheme of yours—which, as Heaven

shall judge me, will, I believe, be successful!—it will be my

unpleasant duty to warn the police here and have you all arrested.”

 

But there lay the difficulty, eh? We could scarcely be arrested for an

idea, without overt act of any kind. Wouldn’t it be a complete answer if

we declared the whole thing a practical joke, and turned the tables by

laughing at him for being so simple as to believe it? No, if we were to

be successfully caught, we must be caught in the act, that was clear.

 

And then I felt the detective was too strong in him: the desire for the

reward, the fame of such a capture; his professional pride, in short,

bulked too large before him to be ignored.

 

No! he said to himself, if we would go on with it, why we must take the

consequences. For his part, he would go to the Principality police, arm

a couple of dozen of them, and have them ready in the rooms. It would be

a simple matter, for hadn’t we always told him our revolvers would not

be loaded?

 

When, after a long silence, he ended by shrugging his shoulders, I was

as well aware of his resolve as though he had spoken it out loud.

 

We left him at the door of his hotel, undertaking to meet him in the

rooms at nine and show him every detail of our plan, so that we might

have the benefit of his final advice on any possible weak points.

 

“There is, of course, the chance,” I observed to Brentin, “of his going

off at once to the police, and getting them to be present on Friday

night as well, _ex majori cautelâ_.”

 

“Oh, he won’t do that! We’ve told him no lies at present.”

 

“None at any rate that he has discovered.”

 

“The same thing!—and if we say Saturday, he probably believes we mean

it. He won’t go to the police till the very last moment; he wouldn’t go

then if only there were any way of managing the business by himself.”

 

“And our ultimate arrest, now that he knows us all?”

 

“Why, sir, that will be the affair of the authorities here; that is, of

course, the chief risk we have now to run. My own notion, however,

always has been that, if only for fear of advertising our success too

widely, and suggesting the scheme to others, the Casino Company will put

up with their loss, just as though we had legitimately won the boodle at

play.”

 

“Let us hope so!” I said, and parted from him with a warm grasp of the

hand.

 

Then I went down to the Condamine, and signalled for the _Amaranth_

boat. We had left Lucy on board all day, for fear of her running up

against Bailey Thompson on shore, and so arousing his suspicions by her

presence. As for old Crage’s finding means to let him know what, in a

fit of temper, he had blurted out, that I didn’t think altogether

likely; in the first place, he would probably be afraid; and in the

second, he would believe Lucy had by this time warned us and the whole

affair was off. So I spent a very happy hour with dear Lucy on board,

finding her sewing in a very bewitching tea-gown of my sister’s, and,

going back to the hotel, discovered Teddy outside in a considerable

state of alarm and excitement. He had just seen Thompson leaving the

hotel, parting from Mrs. Wingham at the door.

 

“Oh, Vincent!” he cried, “it’s not too late; we’d better hook it, we had

really!”—and other terrified absurdities—the fact being, no doubt,

that Thompson had merely come up to see the old lady and find out from

her whether she knew if Saturday really was the day, or if we were by

any chance trying to put him off the scent.

 

I calmed Teddy with the assurance all was going on perfectly well, and

that he had only to keep calm to do himself and his militia training

full justice.

 

“Hang it all!” I said to him, “you are as nearly as possible a British

officer; do, for goodness’ sake, try and behave like one.”

 

But he never did, from first to last; and for that, painful as it is, I

feel myself obliged publicly to censure him here, in print.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XVIII

 

EXIT MR. BAILEY THOMPSON

 

 

FRIDAY dawned, blue and auspicious, and soon after twelve Brentin and I

called at his hotel to conduct the luckless Thompson on board the

_Saratoga_. We had matured our little plan, and as we went down the hill

to the Condamine we began to put it in motion.

 

In this wise. Brentin suddenly pulled up short, saying: “Sakes alive! I

have forgotten to telegraph to the hotel at Venice to secure our rooms.

Mr. Blacker, will you conduct our friend to the boat, and I will join

you?”

 

I went on with Thompson to the boat lying ready for us, and there we

waited. Then at the top of the hill appeared Brentin, as per

arrangement, outside the telegraph office, making weird signals with his

arms.

 

“What on earth is he doing?” I innocently asked.

 

“He apparently wants you,” replied the unsuspicious Thompson; “perhaps

he has forgotten the name of the hotel.”

 

“Oh, Lord!” I ejaculated, “and I shall have to go all the way back up

that horrible hill. Don’t you wait for me, please. If you don’t mind

just going on board and sending the boat back, we shall be ready, and by

that time Parsons and Hines will have joined us. We are a little too

early as it is.”

 

“The others come from the _Amaranth_, I presume?”

 

“Yes; there’s the boat”—for we had arranged they should at any rate

start, and not turn back till they had seen the detective decoyed below

deck on board the _Saratoga_.

 

“_Au revoir!_” I cried, and without turning, up the hill I hastened,

only too delighted and relieved to hear the boat put off and the soft

plash of the oars behind me.

 

I never turned till I got to the telegraph office, and then Brentin and

I stood there and watched with breathless interest. Brentin had glasses

with him, and at once turned them on the _Saratoga_.

 

“Van Ginkel receives him,” he chuckled, “with stately, old-fashioned

courtesy. Thompson explains how it is he is alone, and that the boat is

to go back for us. Van Ginkel insists on taking his plaid shawl, and

entreats him to come below out of the sun. He leads the way, and they go

to the head of the saloon companion-ladder, engaged in affable

conversation and friendly rivalry for the shawl. They disappear. Bravo!

The _Amaranth_ boat turns back. The _Saratoga_ men rapidly haul their

own boat on board. The anchor is apparently already weighed. Animated

figures cross and recross the deck. Orders are rapidly given—she’s off! By Heaven, sir, she’s off!”