Complete works of peter.., p.544
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 544
Alonzo grinned. 'Princess,' he said, 'I'm your man. I'd do anything for you. Now, a little information about the situation of the safe and one or two other things, and then I'll go to work.'
Fifteen minutes and four cocktails later they shook hands. It seemed to Alonzo that there was a little gleam of admiration in her eyes.
'You've got your nerve all right,' she said. 'I'm glad I ran into you. You're a nice change after Serge, even if you don't always keep to the straight and narrow.
'Maybe,' she continued demurely, 'maybe, when I get back here in three or four days' time we'll be able to see a little of each other. Well, so long—here's the thousand.' Alonzo took the ten hundred-dollar notes.
'It's a pleasure to work for you, princess,' he said.
AT ten o'clock that night Alonzo, dark overcoat over his dinner clothes, wandered along the beach until he found a dinghy pulled up on the shingle. He pushed it down into the sea, getting his feet wet in the process, got into it and pulled out towards the Cheruinoff yacht. He had dismissed the idea of hiring a boatman as suggested by the princess. He was taking no chances.
TWENTY minutes later, having approached the yacht by a circuitous route, he pulled in under the stern and sat, oars out, listening. There was no sound to be heard. He made the boat fast to the stern buoy cable and then proceeded to shin up the cable. Three minutes later he was on the deck. Keeping in the shadow of the deck house, he reached the forward companion-way and descended. One of the deck hands, oblivious to everything but the beauty of the night, was singing a love song in the bows. In five minutes Alonzo had found the Cheruinoff cabin. He tried the door carefully, found it open, and went in. The electric light was on, and on the ornate bed of the other side of the cabin Prince Serge Cheruinoff slept the sleep of the very drunk with an accompaniment of the best Cossack snores.
Let into the cabin wall on his right, behind the picture, Alonzo found the safe. He took the slip of paper with the combination written on it, supplied by Klaat's lady friend, and opened the safe. On the top shelf Alonzo saw the dark blue leather case, picked up with gloved hands and opened it. Inside, flashing with a half-million dollar radiance, was the Cheruinoff diamond necklace.
He dropped the necklace into one pocket, the leather case into another, and quietly made for the deck.
AT eleven o'clock Alonzo walked into the Hotel Imperial. Arrived on the main floor, he looked into the restaurant. The cabaret was about to begin, and Alonzo could see, sitting on the other side of the dance floor, at a table against the wall, Dr. Theodor Klaat.
He smiled to himself. He waited until the main turn in the cabaret had begun, and when the restaurant lights were turned down and only a spotlight on the chief performer remained, he worked his way round the room until he was near Klaat's table. He signaled a nearby waiter.
'I'm having a little joke,' he said. 'I want you to take this case over to Dr. Klaat and ask him if it belongs to him. Don't touch it with your fingers. Put it on your tray. There's twenty francs for you.'
He handed the necklace case, with his gloved hand, to the waiter, who with a grin took it, went over to Klaat and whispered in his ear. Klaat examined the case, shook his head and handed it back to the waiter, who brought it back to Alonzo on the tray.
Alonzo went straight up to his room, took the leather necklace case from his pocket with his gloved hand and placed the diamond necklace inside it. He placed the case in a neat cardboard box, put it into a stout envelope, and addressed the envelope in hand-printed letters to 'The Princess Serge Cheruinoff. Hotel Imperial. To be called for.'
Then he put on his hat and went out.
He took a cab to the rue la Pérouse, and dismissing it, walked to the Caf´é Velouté. He ordered a bottle of wine and asked for a page boy. When the boy arrived Alonzo handed him the package.
'Take this round to the Hotel Imperial,' he ordered. 'Hand it in at the reception desk and ask for it to be placed in the hotel safe until Princess Serge Cheruinoff calls for it. Inform them that it is from Dr. Theodor Klaat.'
Immediately the boy had gone, Alonzo paid his bill with one of his new dollar notes and returned to the Imperial. He waited in the lounge until he saw the boy deliver the package at the reception desk. Then, with a sigh, he drank another whisky and soda and went to bed. He had fixed Klaat all right.
AT twelve o'clock next morning Monsieur Edouard Birache, Commissar of Police for Nice, called at the Hotel Imperial and asked to see Mr. Alonzo MacTavish. Mr. MacTavish was at home.
'Monsieur MacTavish,' said Birache, 'you are, of course, well known to us, because it is our business to know who is staying in Nice, and in your case your reputation is, shall we say, international.' He smiled sweetly. 'This morning,' he continued, 'there is a complaint that a very valuable diamond necklace has been stolen from Prince Cheruinoff's yacht Cigale. I have already interviewed Dr. Klaat, who we knew arrived yesterday, and he has suggested that you might like to make some sort of statement to us.'
Alonzo smiled.
'Monsieur Birache,' he said. 'I think I can help you. Last night, somewhere about ten o'clock, I observed Dr. Klaat pulling out to a yacht in a row-boat. I was very interested. As you know, he and I are not very good friends.
'He returned to the hotel,' continued Alonzo, 'and a few minutes afterwards a package was delivered and placed in the hotel safe. I imagine that it will be addressed to Princess Serge Cheruinoff. I imagine also that if you examine the case you will be able to ascertain who handled it.'
Birache nodded. 'I see,' he said. 'And you definitely inform me, monsieur, that you know nothing at all about this necklace, that you have had nothing to do with its removal?'
Alonzo smiled. 'Not a thing,' he said firmly.
Birache picked up his hat.
'Poor old Klaat,' murmured Alonzo, 'I suppose this means about ten years for him?'
The police officer smiled. 'Not at all, monsieur,' he said. 'It means $6,000 for him. In removing the necklace from the yacht last night, he was merely carrying out my own idea, the idea I suggested to the princess when she came to see me yesterday. I promised her I would keep my eye on the job.
'This morning, the hotel people informed me that a package had been delivered for her. I have opened it and it is the necklace all right. I telephoned through to Dr. Klaat and he informed me that I was to see you about it.
'But, as you so definitely inform me that he was responsible for saving the princess's necklace, then, of course, I must see that the money is paid to him. Good morning, monsieur.'
31. — CLASH WITH DR. KLAAT
As published in The Adelaide Mail , Australia, 11 November 1939
JUST in case anyone should still be wondering just how that arch-crook Dr. Theodor Klaat came to be an inmate of Maidstone Prison, let me explain at once that he did not arrive there—as was supposed—through the extreme intelligence and amazing abilities in detection of Detective-Inspector Gringall, of Scotland Yard. Klaat went to prison because Alonzo sent him there, and if Theodor were able to think straight—which is an impossibility—he would know that he deserved it.
The bitter war of brains that had gone on for seven years between Dr. Theodor Klaat, sinister highlight of the European underworld, and Alonzo MacTavish, who once described himself as an 'airy remover of unwanted trifles,' is too well known to those who had cause to be interested to need further description here. But the interesting point in the unwilling exit of Dr. Klaat is the fact that he only became acquainted with the inside of a prison cell because he so ardently desired to put Mr. MacTavish there. A definite case of 'the biter bit.'
THE newly-lit street lamps were casting shadows on the pavements of Knightsbridge as Mr. MacTavish, enjoying a walk in the September evening air, sporting a late rosebud in the lapel of his dinner coat, and whistling softly to himself, was disturbed in his ruminations by the strident voice of a newsboy.
'Cardona ruby stolen!' roared the boy. 'World's biggest jewel disappears!' He favoured Alonzo with a Cockney grin when he received a whole sixpence for the newspaper. Standing under a street lamp, Alonzo scanned the story of the Cardona loss. The day before, the ruby—valued at £20,000—had been stolen in transit from the residence of its owner to the safe deposit in the Rue de Courcelles, Paris.
'The thieves who organised this well-planned robbery will have taken a risk in vain,' concluded the newspaper report. 'Experts state that it is impossible to dispose of the ruby as its size would immediately identify it as the stolen gem. Also, its shape precludes any possibility of it being cut into smaller stones. No expert would attempt to cut the stone, the risk of cracking being too great.'
Underneath was a photograph of the ruby. It was a superb stone, and Alonzo—very interested in precious stones—regarded the picture with approval. And he looked up from the newspaper just in time to see her pass.
She was the kind of girl that Alonzo carried in his mind as being the type that he went for in a very big way indeed. His quick glance showed him a charming complexion, twinkling eyes, an excellent figure, a very well-cut suit, expensive furs, and one of those charming and tiny provocative hats which seem to remain on the head of the wearer in direct contradiction to the force of gravity. Also, the head was blonde—ash-blonde—and had been dressed by an expert who certainly knew his job. Swinging from the left wrist of the hurrying lady was a small gold bag.
ALONZO sighed and looked after her. Just along the street a roadster was parked. As the girl got into it the bag fell from her wrist and into the gutter at the side of the car. The owner, however, had not noticed her loss, for the car drove off and accelerated rapidly in the direction of the Park. Alonzo barely had time to note the number of the car.
MacTavish wandered along and picked up the bag. Here, he thought, was the hand of Fate. Possibly there would be a card inside the bag which would enable him to return it to its fair owner and to claim a reward which he already visualised as a quiet luncheon for two. He put the bag in his pocket, and walked slowly along to the Hyde Park Hotel.
There, in the cocktail bar, he opened the bag in search of a card. There was no card, but there was a letter, and Alonzo's eyes popped when he saw it, as well they might, for it was written in the handwriting of none other than Dr. Theodor Klaat—a handwriting that Alonzo knew very well indeed. He read the letter. It bore the day's date and the address of an exclusive South Kensington hotel. It read:—
Dear Sonia,
I am having this delivered to you by hand. You will be glad to know that the job is done, and we have the Cardona ruby. Velasso will be bringing it from France tomorrow. He will arrive at Victoria on the 4.30. He has an excellent scheme for getting it through the Customs.
Tonight at 9.30 you will please ring Frobisher 72694. An individual will answer you. You will tell him that you are speaking for 'T.K.' He will then ask for instructions. You will inform him that he is to meet Velasso at Victoria tomorrow afternoon at the end of the Continental platform. He is to wear a white carnation in the right lapel of his coat.
Velasso will also be wearing a red carnation in the right lapel of his coat. Velasso will hand him the Cardona, and he will immediately take it to the address he knows of. That is all. Destroy this immediately you have read it.
Theodor Klaat.
Alonzo whistled to himself. So it was Klaat who stole the Cardona ruby! And, with a bit of luck Alonzo saw that he might easily get it for himself.
He ordered another cocktail, and looked at his watch. It was 8.30. He ruminated for a long time and read the newspaper report once more; then, with a grin, he went into the telephone box. He called a number in Clerkenwell.
'Listen, Blooey,' he said, after a gruff voice had answered, 'I've got a big job for you to do. You'll have to be prepared to work all night! I'm coming over now to tell you about it!'
At 9.30 exactly, Alonzo, back in the West-End, entered a telephone box and telephoned Frobisher 72694. He was answered by a man's voice. Alonzo dropped his own voice a couple of tones when he spoke.
'I am speaking for T.K.,' he said.
'O.K.,' said the voice. 'What are the instructions?'
'You are to cancel everything,' said Alonzo. 'The cops are wise. Lay off.'
'O.K. by me,' said the voice. 'Good-night.'
Alonzo hung up. Then, with a pleased smile he went back to Camberwell to supervise the job that Blooey Stevens was working on. At 4.25 next afternoon, Alonzo, garbed in an immaculate grey-blue suit, with a black homburg and a white carnation carefully pinned in the right lapel of his coat, parked his car in a quiet spot along the Wilton Road, and entered Victoria Station through the Wilton Road entrance. But he did not go anywhere near the Continental platform. Instead, he wandered up to the car park and, after a quick look round, which showed him that there were no occupants in any of the cars, he walked along, inspecting the registration numbers on the rear number plates.
After a minute he found it. The car which the girl of the night before—who had so kindly dropped the Klaat letter—had driven. MacTavish grinned, walked quietly away, and stood in an obvious position at the barrier of the Continental platform.
TEN minutes afterwards the train arrived, and five minutes after that a slim and swarthy individual, wearing a red carnation pinned in the right lapel of his coat, passed through the barrier. Alonzo sidled up to him. 'I'm from T. K.,' he said. 'You will notice the carnation.'
'Right,' said the swarthy individual. 'I'm Velasso. I've got it in my hat. Where can I slip it to you?'
'We'll walk quietly down the platform to the car park end,' answered Alonzo. 'There are very few people about there.'
'O.K.' said Velasso. 'I tell you I shall be damned glad to get rid of this thing.'
They walked down the platform together, and at the car park behind the rank of cars, Velasso slipped a small square package into Alonzo's hand.
'Thanks,' said Alonzo. 'That's fine. Now you get off, and I'll follow in a minute or two. It won't do for us to be seen together.' Velasso nodded and walked quickly away.
Alonzo waited until he had disappeared in the crowd at the end of the platform, then he walked quietly past the row of parked cars until he came abreast the back of the pretty girl's car. He paused for a moment, and appeared to stoop and tie up his shoelace. Then he sauntered down the platform, out of the station, and wandered round to Wilton Road.
He walked quickly down the street until he found a telephone booth, went in, looked up the directory, and found the telephone number of the hotel from which Theodor Klaat's note to the girl had been addressed. When the switchboard answered, he asked to be put through to the garage. After a moment the garage attendant came on the telephone.
He asked to be put through to the garage.
'Good afternoon,' said Alonzo pleasantly. 'I believe that a young lady drove a car out of your garage this afternoon—the car belongs to Dr. Theodor Klaat, I believe.'
He gave the number of the car. 'I have a most important message for her—a very urgent message, and I have reason to believe that she will probably drive the car into your garage in a few minutes. I propose to hold on and I'd be obliged if you would ask her to come and speak to me on the telephone immediately she arrives.'
'Certainly, sir,' said the man. 'That's Dr. Klaat's car all right. Will you hold on and I'll tell you when it comes in?'
Three minutes later a feminine voice, very clear, but somewhat mystified, came on the line.
Three minutes later a feminine voice came on the line.
'Good afternoon,' said Alonzo. 'I am Alonzo MacTavish, and I believe I am speaking to the very charming young woman who dropped her handbag in Knightsbridge last night. Well. I'd like to return it.'
'Oh, thank you.' said the voice.
'Another thing,' said Alonzo, 'it might be a very good thing for you if you left at once without bothering to see Dr. Klaat before you go. The situation is like that. Do you understand?'
'I see,' said the voice, a little grimly.
'Quite,' said Alonzo. 'I should hate to feel anything not very nice should happen to such a charming girl as yourself—even if you did try a very fast one on me!'
'Oh...so it's like that, is it?' said the voice. 'Thank you very much. I'll get out while the going's good. Thank you, sir!'
'Not at all.' said Alonzo. 'Perhaps you'd like to meet me at the 'Splendide' for dinner. You will notice that I am of a forgiving nature!'
'Thank you once again,' she said. 'I'll be there at nine o'clock.'
'Thank you,' said Alonzo blithely. 'And take another tip from me and come in a taxi. Don't use that car. It's dangerous!'
'I certainly will not,' she said. 'And I think you're very nice. Till nine o'clock!'
WHEN Alonzo arrived back at his flat and opened his sitting-room door his eyebrows went up in surprise. Sitting in his best armchairs were Detective-Inspector Gringall of Scotland Yard and his assistant, Sgt. Vales.
Gringall got up. 'I'm afraid we've got you this time, MacTavish,' he said pleasantly. 'Your long run of luck is over. And I'll trouble you to hand over the Cardona ruby. You got it from Velasso this afternoon at Victoria. We'd been tipped off by an anonymous telephone call that you were taking it off him. You've been followed since then by a squad car. It's tough luck, but the game's up!'
Alonzo looked surprised. 'I'm sorry, Gringall,' he said, 'but you're making a fearful mistake. I don't know anything about the Cardona ruby.'
'Of course,' he went on pleasantly, 'if you mean the imitation that Velasso brought over this afternoon—why I've got that. You see, when I read that the ruby had been stolen last night. I telephoned Velasso to try and get me one of the many copies of the stone that the Parisian jewellers show in their windows—merely as a curio, of course. Here it is!' He put his hand in his pocket, and brought out a square package.
Gringall took it, opened it and examined it. 'This is an imitation all right,' he said. 'I'm afraid we shall have to search you, MacTavish.'
