Royal Amethyst/Chapter 19
XIX
The sergeant visited me early next morning, and made himself as useful as a man possibly could under the circumstances.
“There'll be a great number of people in the court this morning,” he remarked. “'Tis in everybody's mouth, and they're besieging the doors already.”
“Who's been talking about it?” said I.
“Oh, the boys will talk,” he replied with supreme indifference. “Sure, news like that travels fast.”
“Well, I hope everybody will be pleased,” I said.
“Oh, indeed they will, sir,” he answered. “It 'll be the sensation of the summer!”
After that he informed me that I might smoke a cigar, and then went away, to return in a few moments with Sir Desmond Adare, who had evidently left home in a great hurry, and had not slackened his pace until he burst into my cell.
“Why didn't you send for me last night?” he asked. “Carburton tells me that they wouldn't take bail from him. That, of course, was only to have been expected, because he's a stranger; but they would have taken mine.”
“Thanks very much,” I answered; “but I've had worse quarters than these, and I slept like a top all night.”
“Well, you'll soon be out of this,” said he.
After a few moments Sir Desmond went away, and I dreamily smoked a cigar.
I was aroused from my reverie by the entrance of the sergeant, who informed me that I was waited for, and forthwith led me into the court. I was immediately aware that as many people as could be squeezed in were staring at me with all their eyes.
I looked around, and began to recognize people. I quickly picked out the familiar features of Deasy and Dennis, and of Carburton. Near the artist sat Prince Adalbert. At the prince's side was Count Hofberg, in conversation with the sharp-faced little man whom I had seen in the hotel garden. A little distance away sat Jefferson.
I had seen all these men before I suddenly spied Princess Amirel and Nancy. They sat in the only part of the court that was not crowded, with Sir Desmond on one side, and a stout, motherly-looking lady—Mrs. Smythe, no doubt—on the other. As they caught my eye they smiled and nodded. I began to feel embarrassed, and I hastened to turn my attention elsewhere.
When the proceedings opened, it appeared that I was charged with stealing the Amavia amethyst, and that the person who charged me was its part owner, the Prince of Amavia. There was some argument between the prince's attorney, the sharp-faced gentleman of the hotel garden, and my own, who was Sir Desmond's family lawyer; and there were some passages between both attorneys and the bench. All that was asked by the prosecution was a remand, and only sufficient evidence to justify them in asking for one would be adduced.
It was evident that the little sharp-featured gentleman meant to make the best of a great occasion. He revealed all the romantic circumstances of the case. He painted Princess Amirel as a charmingly innocent lady, who, from sheer inexperience, had accepted the services of a desperado, and had trusted him implicitly. He laid stress on the discreditable career of the prisoner, and on the fact that no one but the princess, Nancy, and myself, knew what was in the satchel, and that only the princess, Deasy, and I had seen it locked in the safe. I was a penniless man with a bad record—and so on, and so on.
I got tired of all this, and my interest only revived when the princess was called to give brief evidence as to the famous amethyst and its disposal in the strong room.
Then they called Deasy, who answered every question briefly, wearing an expression more suggestive of distaste and resentment than of resignation. He corroborated the princess's evidence as to the placing of the satchel in the safe, and gave full particulars as to the strong room, its defenses, the life and death of Peter, and my own knowledge of all these things. It certainly appeared from this part of Deasy's evidence that he and myself were the persons most likely to steal the amethyst.
Then rose up Sir Desmond's man of law, to ask Deasy a few questions.
“I believe,” he said in a quiet, casual tone, “you can prove to the court that Mr. Hanmer is entirely innocent of this charge?”
“Oh, indeed, I can, sir,” the butler replied promptly.
The solicitor looked at the magistrates, and from them to Deasy, and his eyes twinkled.
“Tell their worships the story,” he said.
Deasy seemed to brace himself to his task with a palpable effort.
“Well, your worships,” he said at last, “it was in this way—when I knew there was valuable jewels in the little bag that her highness locked up in the safe, I was anxious, and felt bound to exercise great care. Everything devolved upon me; and there was valuables of Sir Desmond's in the strong room, too. Of course, I didn't know who Mr. Hanmer was, though he was pleasant-spoken and civil, and apparently in great favor with the ladies. I had to take precautions; and so, a night or two after the princess and her suite came to the castle, Dennis and me had a consultation, and we struck on a plan that seemed good for everybody.”
By this time every man in the court was listening with all ears.
“In the daytime I was afraid of nothing, your worships, for I could keep an eye on everybody in the house, one way or another; but at night there was more danger. I thought that if Mr. Hanmer was a swell gangster, he would have confederates, and would be likely to let them into the castle; so we determined, all unknown to him, to make him secure for the night, and release him in the morning.”
There was a roar of laughter all around the court. The sergeant's merriment shook the dock. Sir Desmond's lawyer broke in:
“You mean that from that time forward until the night of the robbery you took precautions which imprisoned Mr. Hanmer in his own room from the time he retired until the next morning?”
“Indeed, then, we did, sir—not that he ever knew anything about it himself. You see,” continued Deasy, “it was a neat job we made of it, once we got the notion of how to do it. We just fixed a strong little staple in the door of his room, about two inches from the bottom and on the outside, and another on the door jamb, and the blacksmith made us a double hook, which was slipped into the two staples.”
There was more laughter at this.
“You mean that when the hook was attached to both staples it was impossible to open the door from inside the room?” the lawyer asked.
“It was, sir.”
“How did you manage matters so that Mr. Hanmer did not discover this little trick?”
“Well, sir, it's rather dark in that corridor; and besides, would a gentleman be wasting his time looking down at the bottom of his bedroom door for things like them?”
“The court is to understand, then, that you secured Mr. Hanmer in his room in this way every night?”
“Indeed, we did, sir. I slipped the catch on to the staples every night just before I retired, and it was taken off by Dennis in the morning.”
“One more question—on the night when you were drugged, did you take this precaution?”
“I did, sir.”
Sir Desmond's solicitor sat down, satisfied. The sharp-faced little man leaped to his feet and looked at Deasy.
“Can you swear that the prisoner was in his room that night when you put the catch on the door?” he asked.
“I can,” said Deasy. “Didn't I hear him singing 'Barney O'Hea'?”
Once more the court gave itself up to laughter. The lawyer made another effort.
“Could not the prisoner have left his room by the window?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Deasy, “but he'd have broken his neck over the Rock of Annalleen.”
The attorney tried a final shot.
“It seems strange,” he said, “that you should thus treat a gentleman who was a member of the princess's suite. You must have had reason to suspect him?”
“Not one,” replied Deasy. “It was just a precaution that I took.”
Deasy stood down, and Dennis stepped into his place. His evidence was short and satisfactory. He corroborated the butler on every point, and swore positively that he had found the catch intact on the previous morning. So there came a speedy end to the proceedings, and the audience departed to laugh over the butler's ingenuity.
As the court cleared, Deasy came up to where I was standing in conversation with Carburton. He wore a rather ashamed look, but it was mingled with a sly expression of huge delight. He begged my pardon, and appeared much relieved when I told him that I bore him no malice.
“And, indeed, it has turned out well, sir,” he said; “but I'd like to lay my hands on the murdering thief that drugged me!”
“You didn't taste anything in your grog, eh?” asked Carburton.
“I did not, sir.”
“Deasy,” said I, “is there anybody you suspect?”
Deasy had formed no suspicions respecting any one. He presently went away, still apologizing, and Carburton and I walked over to Sir Desmond and the ladies, who were chatting with Sir Desmond's solicitor. We all went into the street together, and found that an admiring crowd had gathered in front of the courthouse.
“There will be no more secrecy about the affair now,” said Sir Desmond. “Everybody in this and the next county will know about it. Hello, it's nearly two o'clock! I think I shall lunch at your hotel, Hanmer, and then see the police about the robbery.”
We went to the hotel, and at Sir Desmond's invitation the solicitor and Carburton accompanied us. We lunched in the coffeeroom, which we had to ourselves. We discussed the situation with considerable freedom. Here, again, Carburton came to the front with opinions, suggestions, and theories. I grew impatient with his volubility. Sir Desmond and the lawyer, however, listened to him with respect.
We had been engaged in this fashion for some time when the waitress brought in a card to Sir Desmond. He glanced at it, and then looked at his attorney with some surprise and amusement.
“It is Mr. Lipsett—the man who prosecuted you, Hanmer,” he said. “I suppose he comes as an emissary from Count Hofberg. Shall I see him?”
“I think it would be advisable,” said the solicitor. “We may learn something.”
So Lipsett was brought in, and at Sir Desmond's invitation he took a chair and a glass of wine.
“Sir Desmond,” he began, “I come to you in behalf of my client, the Prince of Amavia, who regrets his hasty conduct in regard to Mr. Hanmer, and begs to apologize. He is assured of Mr. Hanmer's innocence, and is pained to have caused him any inconvenience. Well, Sir Desmond, his highness further charges me to propose that you and he form an alliance to recover the missing jewels. Count Hofberg wired to London for a first-class detective, and Inspector Harland, from New Scotland Yard, has arrived, and is now in the house. The prince begs you to see the inspector and to give him every facility for pursuing his work.”
“I have no objection, Mr. Lipsett,” answered Sir Desmond. “It is a reasonable request, and I am perfectly willing to comply.”
Mr. Lipsett bowed and withdrew. Carburton finished his wine leisurely, lighted a cigarette, and rose.
“Well, I'm off,” he said. “I want to catch the afternoon sunlight for my picture. I may finish it to-morrow.”
“Don't forget that you dine with me the day after to-morrow,” said Sir Desmond.
Carburton merely nodded his head. He put on his white sombrero, picked up his great sun umbrella, said good-by, and lounged out of the coffeeroom by one door as Mr. Lipsett and the detective entered by the other.