The Complete Detective Sgt. Elk Series (6 Novels in One Edition). Edgar Wallace

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СКАЧАТЬ side plays me off against the other.” She rose. “It is late. Maria.”

      The old woman materialised out of the gloom, and held open the gate. Cord arose also.

      “You are not to come with me!” she whispered urgently. “Goodnight!”

      He held her closely. “You love me?”

      “Forever!” she said simply.

      She rearranged the lace mantilla about her head, and held out her hand.

      “I am coming with you,” he said composedly.

      Something in his tone checked the protest on her lips.

      They walked quietly along the narrow street, the duenna behind, climbed a slight ascent, and stopped in front of a house standing apart, and surrounded by a large garden.

      She turned to him, laying one hand upon a small wicket gate.

      “One moment,” he implored. “Count Poltavo Your promise—”

      “I gave my pledge to him if he would save my father,” she said sadly. “That he has not done.” She opened the gate.

      “But if he should—” he insisted.

      She lifted her head proudly. “Then I should redeem my pledge.”

      She vanished into the darkness of the garden, and the young man retraced his steps to the hotel. The next morning he mounted the steep little street with hope in his heart, and hung about, watching anxiously. No sign of life exhibited itself. The windows, with their close-drawn shades, stared at him blankly. Presently an old woman hobbled out of the little wicket gate. Van Ingen approached her eagerly. “The young lady—” he began in a low tone.

      “Gone, senor!” She threw out her hands with an expressive gesture, to indicate illimitable distances. “They departed, in mad haste, in the night.”

      “And she left no message?” he cried, in bitter disappointment.

      She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing more than she told the senor last night.”

      Van Ingen tossed her a silver piece, and turned slowly back to the hotel.

26. T.B. Smith Reports

       Table of Contents

      In red, blue, and green; in type varying in size according to the temperament of the newspaper; in words wild or sedate, as the character of the journal demanded, the newspaper contents bills gave London its first intimation of the breaking up of the Nine Bears.

      As a sensation scarcely less vivid came the astounding exposé of Count Ivan Poltavo. Society rocked to its foundations by this news of its favourite. From every dinner-table in London arose the excited clamour of discussion. Lady Angela defended him stoutly, declaring that as an artist, and ignorant of money, he had been misled by bad, clever rascals. Men who had been forced to take second place in his presence, now came forward, boldly, and stated that they had always suspected him to be a rogue.

      One brilliant young man achieved a week-long fame by looking up his record at Scotland Yard. It appeared that the count was indeed a black-hearted villain. Five years ago he had been deported as an undesirable alien.

      “But how did he escape recognition?” asked a guest.

      The famous one smirked. “He parted his hair on one side, and wore a moustache!”

      Ah! Into the mind of every feminine diner arose the vivid picture of the count — with mustachios! They sighed.

      That the Nine Bears were dispersed was hailed as a triumph for the English police. Unfortunately, the popular view is not always the correct view, and T.B. Smith came back to London a very angry man.

      It had been no fault of his that the majority of the band had escaped.

      “The Civil Guard was twenty minutes late in taking up its position,” wrote T.B. in his private report.

      “No blame attached to the Guard, which is one of the finest police forces in the world, but to the local police authorities, who at the eleventh hour detected some obscurity in their instructions from Madrid, and must needs telegraph for elucidation. So that the ring about the House on the Hill which I commanded was not completed until long after the whole lot had escaped. We caught François Zillier, who has been handed over to the French police, but the remainder of the gang got clean away. Apparently they have taken Count Poltavo with them; Van Ingen declares he shot him and such indications as we have point to his having been badly hurt. How the remainder managed to carry him off passes my comprehension. We have secured a few documents. There is one mysterious scrap of paper discovered in Baggin’s private room which is incoherent to a point of wildness, and apparently the rough note of some future scheme; it will bear reexamination.”

      “Thanks to the industry and perseverance of the English police,” said the London Morning Journal, commenting on the affair, “the Nine Men of Cadiz are dispersed, their power destroyed, their brilliant villainies a memory. It is only a matter of time before they will fall into the hands of the police, and the full measure of Society’s punishment be awarded them. Scattered as they are—”

      T.B. Smith put down his paper when he came to this part, and smiled grimly.

      “Scattered, are they!” he said. “I doubt it.” For all the praise that was lavished upon him and upon his department, he was not satisfied with himself. He knew that he had failed. To break up the gang had always been possible. To arrest them and seize the huge fortune they had amassed would have been an achievement justifying the encomia that were being lavished upon him.

      “The only satisfaction I have,” he said to the Chief Commissioner, “is that we are so often cursed for inefficiency when we do the right thing, that we can afford to take a little credit when we’ve made a hash of things.”

      “I wouldn’t say that,” demurred the Chief.

      “You did all that was humanly possible.”

      T.B. sniffed.

      “Eight men and Poltavo slipped through my fingers,” he answered briefly; “ — that’s a bad best.” He rose from the chair and paced the room, his head sunk on his breast.

      “If Count Poltavo had delayed his entrance another ten minutes,” he said, stopping suddenly, “Baggin would have told Van Ingen all that I wanted to know. This wonderful scheme of his that was to secure them all ease and security for the rest of their lives.”

      “He may have been boasting,” suggested the other, but T.B. shook his head.

      “It was no boast,” he said with assurance, “and if it were he has made it good, for where are the Nine? One of them is on Devil’s Island, because he had the misfortune to fall into our hands. But where are the others? Vanished! Dissolved into the elements — and their money with them! I tell you, sir, there is not even the suspicion of a trace of these men. How did they get away from Cadiz? Not by rail, for all northward СКАЧАТЬ