Complete works of peter.., p.537
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 537
They sat in silence for ten minutes. Then, the telephone rang loudly. The C.I.D. man went to the instrument and spoke. Then he hung up the receiver and turned to Klaat.
"Theodor Klaat," he said. "I arrest you on a charge of robbery." He snapped the handcuffs on the astonished Klaat "Don't worry to say anything," continued McCarthy. "You've got a rotten record, Klaat, and you'll get five years for this. MacTavish, come round in the morning, and I'll give you that money. Good-night!"
WHEN the Inspector and Klaat had gone, and when Klaat's astounded "friend" had been shown off the premises, Lon Ferrers turned to MacTavish.
"How the devil did you do it, Mac?" he said.
Alonzo grinned.
"The easiest thing in the world, Lon," he said. "Directly you showed me that plan, the idea came to me. Klaat's flat was on the top floor, and the chimneys are absolutely straight running down into his fireplaces. At the opposite end of the block of flats is a fire escape. I simply worked out carefully where Klaat's flat was, climbed up the fire escape, selected the chimney leading into Klaat's flat, from which smoke was emerging, showing that a fire was lit in the room beneath, and dropped the bit of asbestos with the pearl in it down the chimney. The rest you know. I'm well out of that business. I could never have disposed of the pearl. It was too well known, and as it is I get two thousand five hundred, and Klaat will probably get five years. I've killed two birds with one stone. It's almost a shame to take the money!"
22. — THE MISSING REMBRANDT
As published in The Sunday Times , Perth, Australia, 2 June 1929
LON FERRERS, that enterprising colleague of Mr. Alonzo MacTavish, had said on more than one occasion that if ever the police did lay hands on Alonzo, it would be through a woman. According to Lon, MacTavish, who possessed an extraordinary genius for leaving no clue whatsoever behind him in his operations, was careless where a pretty woman was concerned, would listen to any hard luck story that was told him by a member of the fair sex and, in nine cases out of ten, would lend a helping hand regardless of consequences.
Alonzo, strolling along the Rue Royale, endeavouring to while away fifteen minutes before keeping his appointment at the Hotel Continental, thought of Lon and his inevitable warnings and wondered what he would say of the matter which was, at the moment, engrossing Alonzo's attention.
Mr. Alonzo MacTavish had found that the air of London was a little sultry. Also Scotland Yard was taking much too much interest in his movements, this interest being caused no doubt by the mysterious disappearance of a diamond necklace from a house of a well-known financier. He had, therefore, come to the conclusion that a week or so in Paris would do no harm.
But he was not to be left in peace for long. Two days after his arrival a page boy from the Hotel Continental had arrived at Alonzo's suite in the Rue Royale with a delicately perfumed note which read:
"Lady Alicia Darrington presents her compliments to Mr. Alonzo MacTavish, and would be glad if he could find it convenient to take tea with her at four thirty on Thursday afternoon. It is quite probable that Mr. MacTavish will hear something to his eventual advantage."
Alonzo summoned one of the taxi-cabs which drive so recklessly about the Paris streets, and ordered the driver to take him to the Continental. On the way he allowed his mind to wander along all the different lines which his interview with Lady Alicia might possibly take. A visit to Messrs Smith's bookshop in the Rue de Rivoli early that morning, and a careful examination of the English papers of recent date, had told Alonzo all he wanted to know about the lady.
She was nineteen, she was very pretty, and she had run away and got married without her father's consent. Lord Darrington had made no bones about his opinion of his daughter's runaway match, and had stated quite definitely that he had stopped every penny of her allowance, until such time as she should come to her senses and leave her husband, whom he described as a "rapscallion artist." It therefore seemed to Alonzo that the lady would probably require something done, something which was probably just outside the law, and had been recommended to ask Alonzo to do it.
A few yards from the Continental Alonzo paid off his cab and walked. An individual approaching, who was looking over his shoulder at someone approaching behind him, almost knocked MacTavish down, and then proceeded with great charm to apologise in very good French.
"You don't have to talk French to me, Wilmer," said Alonzo, with a smile.
"Good heavens!" said the unobservant one, "if it isn't MacTavish!"
"Look here, Wilmer," said Alonzo "I consider that this encounter has been planned by a kindly Fate. You know all about the aristocracy—a least you're always going to people's parties and balls, when you are not in prison for stealing something from them! Tell me what you know about the Darrington family."
Wilmer considered for a moment.
"They're a very old family," he said eventually, "and, as you've probably read, the youngest daughter, Alicia has just run off and got married to some artist fellow. Old Darrington is terribly annoyed with her, and won't allow her a penny. You remember the Darrington case some months ago. A Rembrandt oil painting disappeared from the picture gallery at Darrington Lodge in Hertfordshire and has never been heard of since. It was valued at £20,000, too. I suppose you didn't steal it?" said Wilmer, with a grin.
"Unfortunately, no," replied Alonzo. "Anyhow, thanks very much for the information. I'll probably see you at the club, later." He nodded to Wilmer and walked quickly into the Hotel Continental.
THE quick glance at Lady Alicia Darrington, which Alonzo took as he was shown into her pretty sitting-room on the first floor, told him that, allowance or no allowance, she appeared to be making the best of things. Young and beautiful, exquisitely gowned, and charming, she seemed to Alonzo to be the sort of girl that any man would run away with.
"Sit down, Mr. MacTavish," she said smilingly, "and let me give you some tea. I expect you are wondering why I asked you to come and see me and I'll set your curiosity at rest as quickly as I can.
"I expect that you have heard all about my marriage, and how I ran away from Darrington. Well, my father has been very hard on us! He is rather a stupid sort of father, and not only has he stopped my allowance, but he actually refuses to forward any of my clothes or other belongings, which I was forced to leave behind me at Darrington Lodge. Now there is one thing which I insist on having and as it seems that I cannot obtain it by fair means, then I am reluctantly forced to resort to foul ones." She smiled charmingly at Alonzo.
"I want you to steal something for me, please," she said. "I've heard that you are the most wonderful cracksman in the world. That the police have never succeeded in proving anything against you, and that you invariably succeed in whatever you set out to do."
Alonzo bowed. "Thank you for the compliment," he said with a smile. "May I ask what it is you require stolen?"
"It's a picture," she answered. "And it belongs to me. Some months ago a rather valuable picture—a Rembrandt—was stolen from Darrington Lodge. It was never recovered. In the meantime our butler, who had been with us for many years, and who was an amateur painter, presented me with a picture—a landscape, and this was hung in the picture gallery in the place of the missing Rembrandt. Now I have a very great sentimental regard for that picture, and I want it. I have asked my father for it, and just because he's annoyed with me he refuses to let me have it. But I insist on having it more for the principle of the thing than anything else. Now Mr. MacTavish, will you go to England and burgle Darrington Lodge for me and get my picture? I can't pay you very much for doing it but I'll pay you what I can. What do you say?"
Alonzo laughed. "Why, I say yes," he said. "And I won't take a penny for doing it. Let me see, today is Thursday. Very well, then, by next Thursday, I promise that your picture shall be here, that is, of course, unless they catch me in the attempt."
"In which case I should tell them the whole story," she said smilingly. "But I don't think you'll be caught. They tell me that you are much too clever! Now, I'd better tell you all about the Lodge, and where the picture gallery is!"
Half an hour later Alonzo left the Hotel Continental, and made his way back to the Rue Royale. An amused grin played about the corners of his mouth.
"By Jove," he murmured. "What a job, stealing a butler's picture for nothing, at least not quite for nothing, but merely to make a pretty girl happy! I wonder what Lon Ferrers would say to that!"
IT was on the following Monday night that Alonso found himself crouching in the shadow of the trees which surrounded the lawn at the back of Darrington Lodge. He had learned by heart the plan of the house, and knew that once he had entered by means of the French windows, the library and the picture gallery were near at hand, and that it would be but the work of a few minutes to remove the picture and carry it to the two-seater car which he had waiting in the dark corner of a nearby field.
He commenced to work his way carefully round the lawn, keeping well in the shadow of the trees. It was a beautiful moonlight night—too beautiful, Alonso thought—but he succeeded in reaching the window without any cause for alarm. Two minutes' work with the small steel tool which he produced from his pocket, and the windows were opened. Alonso slipped through, closed the windows carefully behind him, made his way quietly across the darkened library, switched on his electric torch, found the door, and, mounting the stairs which he saw straight before him, found himself in the Darrington picture gallery.
Darringtons of past ages looked down from the walls at Alonzo, as he tip-toed to the far end, where, he knew Lady Alicia's landscape picture hung. As he stood before it, examining it closely, he realised that it was indeed a woman's whim which demanded the stealing of such a worthless painting. A veritable daub, obviously the work of an amateur, it showed crudely against the works of art which surrounded it.
Alonso took a chair, and standing on it endeavoured to lift the picture, but found himself unable to do so. The frame was fixed firmly to the wall. Alonzo, used to quick decisions, realised that there was but one thing to be done. The picture must be cut from its frame.
Such an eventuality had occurred to him before setting out on this adventure, and from his pocket he produced a small razor. He inserted the blade at the top of the picture, against the frame, and commenced to cut, but the movement of his hand unsteadied him and he almost fell from the chair.
Recovering himself, he saw with annoyance that he had scraped the surface of the picture badly. He flashed his light on it to examine the damage, and an exclamation broke from his lips. At the same moment the light was snapped on, and Alonzo turned to find himself gazing at the angry countenance of Lord Darrington, who, a revolver in his hand, stood at the far end of the library.
Alonzo sprang from the chair and advanced to meet the enraged Peer.
"Good morning, my lord," he said smilingly. "I'm sorry if I have disturbed your slumbers, but I was just doing a little moving job for your daughter, Lady Alicia. She asked me to get her picture for her, and I thought that I'd just come in through the window instead of knocking up the whole household!"
"Look here, sir," shouted Darrington. "I have a good mind to hand you over to the police. Oh, I don't doubt your story. I have no doubt that that scatter-brained daughter of mine is behind all this! I give you five minutes to get off these premises. Otherwise, I'll hand you over to the police!"
Alonzo took up his hat, and advanced towards the door. "I'm really very sorry, Lord Darrington..." he began. Then, without a moment's hesitation, he sprang sideways, seized the unfortunate Darrington in a grip of iron, placed one hand over his mouth, and despite the struggles of the Peer, who was no match for Alonzo's muscle, bound, gagged, and eventually seated Darrington in a chair in the space of two minutes. Then he returned to the picture, and after a little difficulty, succeeded in cutting it from its frame.
He tied it carefully in the baize cloth which he had brought with him for the purpose, put on his hat, and bowed gracefully to the frenzied Lord Darrington, who glared at him like a tiger.
"Au revoir, my lord." said Alonzo. "I say au revoir because I feel that I shall be seeing you again shortly. I am afraid that you will have to stay tied in that chair until tomorrow morning, when someone will probably discover you in time for breakfast. Anyhow, let this be a lesson to you not to be a hard-hearted parent in future. Just think how pleased Lady Alicia will be to have her picture back again, and try and smile. Good-bye!"
Lord Darrington said nothing, but if looks could have killed, Alonzo would have been dead on the spot.
THREE days later. Lord Darrington, sitting at his breakfast table at Darrington Court, received a letter from Mr. Alonzo MacTavish, which read:
London.
Dear Lord Darrington,
I write to you because I feel that I may have a suggestion for you that may appeal to your sense of business. As you doubtless remember, you discovered me the other night in the act of removing a picture which belonged to your daughter, and which she asked me to obtain for her. In attempting to cut it from its frame, I scratched the surface and was surprised to discover that there was another picture underneath. To cut a long story short, this picture is none other than the Rembrandt which was stolen some months ago. Apparently, your enterprising butler stole the picture, and with more brains than butlers usually possess, painted another picture over it, mounted it in another frame, and presented it to your daughter, knowing perfectly well that no one would dream of looking for the missing Rembrandt underneath the horrible daub of your butler. I suppose that when everything had blown over, he would have painted another picture like it and substituted it one night.
I have had the scraped portion carefully painted in again, and have forwarded the picture to Lady Alicia, who of course, thinks that it is her picture, and does not know that the Rembrandt is underneath. She is going to present it to her husband, who, being an artist, will probably put it on the fire, which would be unfortunate.
Now I believe, that this picture is worth £20,000. Therefore, if you care to wire to me care of Hatton Garden post office, that you will pay to your daughter the sum of £15,000, I will inform her that the picture underneath is your property, and she will probably return it. Don't waste any time.
Faithfully.
Alonzo MacTavish.
Lord Darrington's language would have done credit to a trooper. But his sense of business triumphed, and that afternoon he wired Alonzo agreeing to the terms.
Alonzo, his usual smile illuminating his countenance, immediately wired Lady Alicia in Paris:
YOUR FATHER OFFERS £15,000 FOR THE PICTURE. REMBRANDT UNDERNEATH. DO YOU ACCEPT? MACTAVISH.
Three hours afterwards he received the answer:
YES. AREN'T YOU WONDERFUL. COME OVER HERE AND COLLECT FIVE THOUSAND. ALICIA DARRINGTON.
Mr. Alonzo MacTavish looked up the train and boat service to Paris, then he turned to Lon Ferrers.
"Lon," he said, "just pack my bag, will you? I'm going to Paris to collect some money. By the way, wasn't it you who warned me against helping a pretty woman? I think you're rather behind the times, Lon. You'd better go to the movies more!"
23. — TOO MANY CROOKS
As published in The Sunday Times , Perth, Australia, 9 June 1929
ONE of the main reasons why Mr. Alonzo MacTavish had never been an inmate of one of His Majesty's prisons was because he possessed an uncanny instinct which invariably told him when some enterprising C.I.D. man was taking a shade too much interest in his movements.
And this instinct was not only confined to the police. For Alonzo had many enemies outside the forces of law and order. The sport of upsetting other swell cracksmen's plans was one in which Alonzo MacTavish was very fond of indulging, and this weakness had procured for him many bitter enemies in every part of the world.
Directly Alonzo saw Marney and Klausen together, he knew that something was afoot. Walking after dinner, down Cork Street, he had observed Marney, over-dressed, and with his usual large cigar, swagger out of the Bristol Restaurant. This fact by itself meant nothing, but when Alonzo noticed that, from the garage entrance opposite the Bristol, Klausen emerged, walked down the street and joined Marney, he knew that something was going to happen which boded no good for someone—possibly himself.
Marney and Klausen were bitter enemies, and Alonzo reasoned that when bitter enemies get together, it is probably only for combination against a common enemy whom they dislike more than each other, and no doubt existed that no greater enemy lived, as far as that pair were concerned, than Mr. Alonzo MacTavish. He had spoiled their individual plans on a dozen occasions. Marney had served a three years' sentence in a French prison for stealing rubies which had actually been "removed" by the enterprising Mr. MacTavish. Klausen had effected one of the greatest coups of latter years in the criminal world by substituting a paste imitation for the Maharajah of Tinpoor's State sword, only to find afterwards, that Mr. MacTavish had in turn substituted an imitation and removed the real one from Mr. Klausen's rooms in St James's Street. At the back of his head Alonzo was rather surprised that Vokell was not joining the other two in their plans. Vokell hated Alonzo as much as Marney and Klausen put together.
MacTavish smiled as this thought came to him, for, at this very moment, from the end of Burlington-avenue, Vokell appeared, and with a quick glance up and down the street joined the other two.
Alonzo knew now that his surmise had been correct. They were out for him, and the question was how.
At the bottom of Cork Street, Marney stopped a passing taxi-cab and the three got in. Luckily, the driver accidentally stopped his engine, and the delay necessitated by the restarting of it enabled Alonso to summon a cab which was crawling along the far end of Burlington Street.
"Follow that cab in front," he demanded, and sitting back, well out of view from the cab windows, lit a cigarette.
THE evening was falling as the two cabs drove up Regent Street, and so long a journey did the enterprising trio make that it was almost quite dark before the first cab stopped outside an unpretentious house on the outskirts of Edgware. Alonzo, stopping his own taxi further down the road, paid off the man and watched his three adversaries enter the small house, which was surrounded by a miniature garden.
