82.8





THE CASE OF
THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
In this unusual mystery tale, Mr. Gribble, one of the
most successful writers in this field in England, tells the
story of the theft at Steyning Towers of Lady Malverne's
famous diamond necklace known as "Tears of Death."
Before the case is solved by the ingenious Inspector An-
thony Slade of Scotland Yard, several murders are com-
mitted, involving an American Olympic champion, Lady
Malverne herself and several others.
Like all Mr. Gribble's stories, this novel is peopled with
flesh-and-blood human beings, real situations, and abounds
in humor and good writing. It is not the stilted, mechanical
tale of puppets that is so often found in routine mystery
stories.





LEONARD R. CRIBBLE
A -
THE CASE OF
THE MALVERNE
DIAMONDS
NEW YORK
CREENBERC : PUBLISHER


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Chapter I
"I don't like it, Bill. I don't like it one little bit." Shadows
veiled the brightness of the girl's dark eyes; a worried note
crept into her pleasantly husky voice. "Think, Bill, it might
mean your . . . going back there"
The young man's face went stiff, his hps compressed in a
colourless line.
"Never, Tessa. They won't do that to me, not again."
The smouldering cigarette between his lean fingers broke,
and he tossed the crushed remnants into the grate. "There's
a big debt owing me for last time. I was framed"
"You were . . . unlucky, Bill."
"Framed, Tessa!" he all but shouted. His breathing was
heavy and laboured, as that of a man struggling with some
deep-born emotion. "Framed." He repeated the word
slowly, slurring the vowel. "But not this time." He paused,
took a fresh cigarette from the open packet on the table,
and touched it with flame from a lighter. "This time things
will be different." He laughed. "The very name fascinates
me. The Tears of Death. If what the newspapers say is true
plenty of men have died for that string of diamonds—
plenty. They've changed hands a hundred times. Men have
cheated and stolen and killed for them, but that has only
increased their value. A hundred and fifty thousand
pounds. Think of it, Tessa. A hundred and fifty thousand
pounds. . . ."
His eyes were dreamy. A pulse throbbed wildly in the
slim curve of his throat.


6 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
The girl shivered.
"I'm afraid, Bill," she murmured.
He didn't appear to hear.
"That means a certain thirty thousand for us. Thirty
thousand pounds . . . perhaps fifty thousand. Some of
those stones are big. They could be cut and cut again, and
still fetch a big price. Think what we could do with thirty
thousand pounds, Tessa; think what it would mean for
us, for you. . . . And perhaps fifty thousand."
"Would we be happier, Bill?"
"Would we?" He sounded incredulous at her lack of
faith. "Listen, Tessa, nobody can be happy without money.
We know that. Think how your own mother had to screw
and scrape. And mine . . . the fight killed her. Do you
think I can ever forget that dirty little slum, the leaky
roof and damp walls? It bred misery, Tessa. Romance! It
sounds all right in books, on paper. But see how it works
out on a few quid a week, and those never very sure. Ro-
mance and the opportunity to enjoy life comes with money.
We've proved that"
"We've been happy, Bill."
The protest was wrung from her. He was almost brutal
in the way he flung that protest aside.
"We've tried to be, Tessa. My God, we've tried! And
I got framed for a job I never did. Then you had to take
that offer of old Reisenberg's, to keep things afloat. The old
swine! I'd like to"
"It's all right now, Bill. He hasn't been pawing me again.
Don't dig that up. I had to do something, and the money
was good."
"It was filthy. I'd sooner steal—d'you hear?—than go
about life knowing my wife's got to"


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 7
"Bill, shut up!"
She was white and trembling. The young man went
towards her with a clumsy gesture invoking forgiveness.
"I'm sorry, Tessa. I know there's no muck sticking to
you. But it's the whole set-up of things that gets under my
skin and makes me mad. I boil up so that I want to rush
out and smash things with my two hands. Don't you know
that feeling?"
After a pause she said, "I did when you went . . . in-
side, Bill."
The word roused him. He strode back to the table, and
his clenched fist pounded the threadbare cloth.
"With thirty—maybe fifty—thousand pounds we can
get out of the country, make a fresh start. Don't you see?
We can be ourselves"
"With fear of the police always with us?"
"You're a woman. You let your feelings get the better
of you."
"Bill, for the last time, will you give it up—the whole
idea? You've got the offer of a job. Bill . . . for my sake!"
The black hair brushed across the crown of her head
was level with his mouth; her face was tilted upwards, red
lips slightly parted.
"A job. Forty-six bob a week. And you ask me, for your
sake, Tessa." Wondering surprise mingled with disbelief in
his quiet tone. "No!" The word trembled vibrantly. "For
your sake, Tessa—for mine—for both our sakes I'm going
through with it. Those diamonds . . . those Tears of
Death shall bring us happiness, Tessa. I swear it. I won't
bungle the job. I've been studying"
"Studying?" .
"Sure. I didn't want you to know. Look." He brought a


g THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
book from beneath a pile of magazines. "Historic Sussex.
That's the title. Get the idea?" He flicked over several
pages. "Pictures of old castles and manor-houses, with maps
and descriptions. There's a beauty of Steyning Towers.
I've been studying it. I could go through the place blind-
folded."
He left the book in her hands, and she felt cold fingers
caressing her throat. The book was a weight in her hands,
and the diagrammatic sketch of Steyning Towers on the
page before her eyes blurred and took grotesque shape.
"So you've made up your mind . . ."
"That's more like my Tessa," he said, with assumed
heartiness. "Sit down. I want to talk. I've got it all doped
out."
She sat in a chair at the table, while he paced the small
room, cigarette smoke following the jerky movements of
his head. She wanted to shout and scream, do anything to
stop him from this mad venture, but she sat mouse-like,
silent, listening.
"I can climb the North Tower, Tessa. There's a turret
window that will be easy to open"
"The place will be wired," she said softly.
He laughed.
"I'm not easily caught that way, old girl. . . . Then a
flight of stairs to the main building. A balcony runs round
a big hall, with east and west doors. That way I can get
to the living-rooms, and through the South Tower to the
sleeping apartments."
"How will you know where the Tears are?"
He smiled down upon her.
"Where would any woman conceal jewels in a place like
that, Tessa?"


1o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
my risk, all mine, something I won't share with even you,
Tessa."
She rose and crept into his arms. They were strong about
her, and their pressure gave her false confidence.
"You're a damned, pig-headed, blind fool, Bill, but . . .
oh, God, I love you!"
Minutes later they sat at the table together, and studied
the time-table Bill had worked out. Fear stole back into
Tessa's heart, brooded in her eyes. Bill's limbs and wits were
nimble, his hands strong, his eyesight good, and he was
clever at opening safes. There had been jobs in the past,
small jobs, about which he had laughed. Then he had been
jugged for a crib-cracking he had not committed. That
had made him savage. He wanted to strike back. But not
blindly. He was taking every care, as he had said. His tim-
ing and preparation were thorough.
She glowed with strange, bewildering pride, and pride
fought fear for possession of her mind.
"See?" Bill was saying, his voice thick. "That's where
you wait in the car. Give me thirty-five minutes, Tessa. No
more, no less. If I'm not back with you then drive on. You
understand?"
She nodded. She knew she had capitulated; her last re-
serve was gone.
They began their meal in silence, and finished it in a state
of forced hilarity. In the tiny scullery Bill stood at her
side, wiping the hot dishes as they came from the suds in
the sink, and she thought she would never forget that
strange smell of soapy dishes, fried fish, and cigarette
smoke.
In the little living-room the radio was on low, as Bill
liked it. A dance-band unwound a mechanical tune and


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS u
she found herself thinking to its broken tempo. She wanted
to cry and she wanted to laugh. She wanted to fling her
wet arms round Bill's neck and she wanted to throw the
thick Wbolworth jug with the damned silly flowers all
over it at him. She wanted . . . She was near to breaking
down, and realized it. Her nerves were on edge.
"Might finish them for me, Bill. I want to slip upstairs
a minute. I don't feel so good."
"'Course I will, old girl. Tum-rum-rum-tiddlee-um,"
he sang, to the music of the radio, and playfully smacked
her rump as she slipped past.
"No more cotton dresses, Tessa," he called after her,
"when we get that thirty thousand ... or maybe fifty.
Silk, satin, what the hell you like!" He was happy, and
each minute the heady wine of his reflection was becoming
more intoxicating. "Tum-rum-rum-tiddlee-um-pum."
Nearly an hour later they were in the car Bill had hired.
Bill sat before the wheel, Tessa at his side. Again silence
lay between them, an invisible barrier neither probed nor
scaled. They left London, and the southern suburbs flashed
by in a steely twilight.
"Not a bad little bus, is she?" said Bill.
"Not at all bad," agreed Tessa.
That ended the effort to make conversation. Beyond the
built-up area Bill opened her up. The little car bounced
and rattled, but she was speedy. Tessa sat rigid, sucking
deep gulps of the cold night air flung in her face. Bill stared
straight ahead, gaze fixed on the unwinding ribbon of road
revealed in his headlights.
An hour and a half after leaving London Bill drew the
car into a country lane.
"Remember the map, Tessa?" A sense of urgency and


12 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
caution caused him to drop his voice to a whisper. "Good.
This is the spot I marked with that letter A. I want you to
wait here. Thirty-five minutes, mind. No more, no less.
How's your watch?"
They compared watches, and Bill stood up. He was
dressed in dark clothes, a black muffler was round his
throat, ready to be drawn over his face, and black woollen
gloves covered his already rubber-covered hands. The tools
in his pockets did not jingle.
"Good luck . . . Bill!"
Their kiss was long. In the darkness something cold and
moist touched one of Bill's cheeks, and Tessa blinked rap-
idly.
"Remember, Tess, thirty-five minutes . . . that's all."
His tall figure merged with the darkness, for the car was
parked under some trees, its lights off, and only the sound
of the wind came to her.
"Thirty-five minutes," she repeated, staring at the radio-
lite dial of her cheap wrist-watch.
An hour and thirty-five minutes passed, and still Bill did
not return.


i4 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Mr. Reisenberg has a reputation for taking precautions,
Lady Malverne," said Slade. "He is a successful business
man. I presume he advised you not to have the necklace
brought to Sussex."
"He did, Inspector. But I thought that childish. I see
no real danger in having the necklace here, especially as two
Scotland Yard officers will be on hand to guard it, and the
insurance company have sent one of their own detectives.
A kind of double-locking of the gate, and unnecessary."
"A necklace worth a hundred and fifty thousand pounds,
Lady Malverne, is a great temptation, and there are still a
lot of crooks in the world."
She laughed.
"You sound like a school-teacher reading me a lesson."
"I'm sorry. I meant only to"
"I know, I know," she interrupted quickly. "It's just that
I don't see the need for all this fuss. I don't mind it a scrap
. . . especially as I haven't to stay in London over the
week-end."
Slade knew to what she referred. One of the few guests
at Steyning Towers was Kurt Swensen, the laughing
Swedish-American who had astonished the athletes of the
nations at the recent Olympic Games. Gossip-writers in the
Press had weeks before linked the names of Lady Malverne
and the tall Swede. Swensen had not returned to the United
States, and Slade had found him at Steyning Towers.
"Will Mr. Reisenberg take the necklace with him, Lady
Malverne, in the event of his purchasing it from you?"
"That remains for Mr. Reisenberg to decide, Inspector. I
don't want to bore you, but I don't care. You perhaps will
not be able to understand that. Women are supposed to
covet jewels and bright gauds. I may be different; anyway,


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 15
I don't. My husband"—her voice hardened—"as you doubt-
less know, collected jewels. He bought the Tears of Death
necklace when the Countess of Beaune offered it for sale.
But it has always remained in a strong-room in London,
with the other gems of his collection. Now he is dead, I
personally see no reason why the strong-room should con-
tinue to hold them. I don't want them. I've sold most of the
other jewels of the collection, and now I'm anxious to get
rid of the Tears. I've got a feeling that they are not a lucky
possession. Silly of me, because I've always pooh-poohed the
suggestion that jewels have any potency for good or evil.
Yet you know their history, Inspector. At times I'm quite
frightened by my possession of that necklace."
Slade nodded gravely.
Most newspapers in the British Isles had printed the his-
tory of the celebrated Tears of Death once it had become
known that Lady Malverne intended to disperse her hus-
band's celebrated collection. The Tears comprised a necklace
of matchless diamonds, four of which had histories as dark
and horrible as that of the Koh-i-Noor. Like the famous
diamond in the collection of British Crown Jewels, the four
Tears had commenced their wanderings after the sack of
Delhi by the hordes of Genghis Khan. With the Koh-i-Noor,
they had been stripped by ravishing Mogul hands from the
Peacock Throne, and they had travelled in different direc-
tions to the ends of the earth, finally to be collected and
brought together by the grandfather of the late Earl of
Beaune. The Eye of Allah, the Star of the South, and the
Rose of Persia had remained, for the most part, in the East
until exploring Europeans had heard the legends that had
arisen about them. The fourth Tear, known widely as the
Catherine diamond, had been presented to the Russian


16 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Empress by a Mongolian prince who had visited her Court.
"I understand the necklace is in a safe in the South
Tower, Lady Malverne," said the detective.
His words, spoken quietly, roused her from dreamy con-
templation of a tinted finger-nail.
"That is so, Inspector." She laughed. "Don't tell me you
are expecting a burglar."
Slade interpreted the words literally, and chose another
tack.
"If you don't mind, Lady Malverne, I'd like to go over
the Towers before it is dark. I'm rather lost at the moment."
She rose, smiling.
"Like Mr. Reisenberg, Inspector, you take many precau-
tions for a short week-end."
"Probably like Mr. Reisenberg, Lady Malverne, I have
learned the value of those precautions."
Did she sweep him a swift, appraisive glance? The Yard
man could not be sure, but he fancied that her hand trem-
bled as she moved towards the door. Or was it fancy?
"Brooks will give you every assistance, Inspector," she
said, and the dove-grey figure passed on to where her guests
waited in the lounge.
Slade strolled back to the morning-room, where Clinton
awaited him.
"Looks like we've got a quiet week-end for a change,
Clinton," he announced. "A small house-party, a house
like a fort, lost in the heart of the country, and a necklace
that would give a millionaire heartburn. Pity we didn't
bring our rackets."
Clinton glanced at his chief.
"What's wrong?" he asked. He knew from Slade's man-


18 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
built for his family name had passed from rich family to
rich family. Only a rich family could afford to maintain
Steyning Towers as a country residence; and in these days
of super-tax and land tax only a very rich man could enjoy
the beauty and old-world privacy of the Steyning estate.
Sir Julius Malverne had made a tremendous fortune dur-
ing the War. Tinned foods, boots, leather equipment, khaki
cloth, he had owned factories that had worked night and
day on Government orders. When the high-tide of War
profits receded he sold out, at a handsome sum, his shares
in the various companies he had formed and directed. Re-
investment in the staple industries later proved his com-
mercial wisdom. He bought Steyning Towers after the Ver-
rock family had bled itself white to try to keep it, married,
and settled down to collect precious stones.
Why Lucie Birchall ever agreed to become Lady Malverne
was a perpetual mystery to her friends. Some attempted an
explanation with the suggestion of foolish reaction to a
broken romance. Certainly everybody agreed that red-
haired Tommy Witchart had been a purblind idiot to get
drunk at the Hunt Ball, and it served him right when Lucie
returned his ring. But Tommy shouldn't have shied and
left the field, and anyway he should have known that there
were snakes in Kenya. Or was it Tanganyika? Lucie had
been terribly upset, of course; but the fact remained that
Tommy had left the field . . . open to Julius Malverne,
with his chinking coin and agate-hard eyes, his baronetcy—
paid for in hard cash—and his passion for gems. When Lucie
became Lady Malverne she virtually retired from the world.
Julius had a queer streak in him; he had the outworn no-
tion that a wife was a chattel, and he was not the kind of
man to treat a chattel kindly. Rumour had it that Julius's


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 19
'plane crash had been more than fortunate for Lucie . . .
and Kurt Swensen.
However, no foul play had been proved, and Lady Mal-
verne had not been a hypocrite and gone into mourning.
Something of all this was passing through Slade's mind as
he and Clinton followed the butler from room to room,
along corridor and staircase. Brooks had made himself ac-
quainted with the history of the old house. He had a fund
of anecdote and story to tell, and in his quiet voice, empty
of emotional inflexion, he told them of sword-fights and
midnight trysts that momentarily transported them to an-
other age. He was standing in the doorway of a large room,
raftered, hung with drab-coloured tapestries, through
which a keen draught blew cuttingly, and he was saying,
"Sir Malcolm drew his sword as he ran . . ." when the
dressing-bell rang.
The two Yard men, who were ostensibly 'guests' for the
length of their stay, retired to change. Upon going down-
stairs they were met by a rotund, bouncing individual with
bright eyes and a round, almost bald head. Gems glittered
upon Max Reisenberg's pudgy fingers. Coruscating opals
burned in his shirt-front.
"Glad to see you, Inspector. You too, Sergeant." The
beady black eyes danced, travelled, and returned to Slade's
face. "I'm not sure I shouldn't prefer to be in my own office
than stuck out here, miles from anywhere." A surprisingly
white finger rubbed his blue-black jaw reflectively. "I can't
get used to this place. It doesn't seem real. More like a movie
set. I feel I'm acting all the time. Understand what I mean?"
"Vaguely, Mr. Reisenberg."
"Perhaps I'd better Ah!" he broke off as a woman
in blue approached. It was that shade of hard blue that, in


zo THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
electric light, hurts the eye. "Madge, meet Mr. Slade and
Mr. Clinton, from Scotland Yard. Gentlemen, my wife."
The woman's attitude was as hard as her blue frock. She
gave each Yard man a limp hand and said, "Pleased to meet
you" with transparent insincerity. The paint on her face
was skilfully applied, but distress signals lit her narrowed
eyes. She was a woman set against her wrong background,
and she knew it. Her eyes and her accent proclaimed that
she was out of place.
They chatted generalities until another man drifted
towards them.
"You've met Mr. Butterick, Inspector?" Reisenberg in-
quired.
Slade murmured his regret, and found himself shaking
the hand of the insurance company's representative. But-
terick was a negative type of man, thirty-fiveish, with
sandy hair and a clipped sandy moustache. He looked like a
seedy Army man whose health had broken down and forced
an early retirement. His upper lip was very full, and when
he spoke his words were chewed and mangled. His voice had
a dreary intonation that quickly grated on the ear.
He was plainly nervous, a man whose sense of the fitness
of things was swamped by the impressiveness of the sur-
roundings in which he found himself. He slipped out of
the conversation without anyone being aware of it.
Lady Malverne and a young giant with corn-coloured
hair approached.
"Swensen," Reisenberg murmured. "A lad who knows
a good thing—when it falls into his hands."
Crude but expressive, Slade thought. Typical of Max
Reisenberg, whose acumen as a business man was not un-
known at the Yard. Merchants in Hatton Garden who have


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 21
regular agents travelling to and fro between London and
Amsterdam must expect the police to survey their activities
with something more than a disinterested glance. Max
Reisenberg had always had the mental courage, in the past,
to take the police bull by the horns.
Swensen bowed to Madge Reisenberg, and for an instant
longer than was necessary held his yellow head over her
wrinkled hand.
"Charmed, Mrs. Reisenberg," he said, a slight accent
broadening his American vowels.
As he raised his head he stared straight at Slade.
"From Scotland Yard, Inspector?" It wasn't a question
save for the lilt of his voice. He held out a frank hand. "I
have read so much about the English police in fiction," he
said as his grip challenged that of the detective, "that I am
a trifle disappointed."
Lady Malverne laughed. Reisenberg's roving eyes came
suddenly to rest, and he opened his fleshy mouth to emit
what he thought would pass for a chuckle.
"What did you expect, Mr. Swensen?" Slade smiled.
"Oh ... an eagle face, hawk eyes ... in fact, In-
spector, a rara avis."
"And instead?"
Swensen laughed easily.
"Instead I find a man with whom I might sit down and
have a chat about athletics. I said I was disappointed. I
must enlarge—pleasantly disappointed."
There was a high polish to the Swede's manner. He
spoke without embarrassment and his English was not a
stumbling-block. He was a graceful giant, and damned
good-looking, as Slade admitted to himself.
Other people drifted into the lounge. A Mrs. Clammer,


22 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
elderly, but seemingly sweetly futile. Slade gathered that she
was a friend who was now a companion-of-sorts to Lady
Malverne. There was a Captain Furniss, a distant cousin of
the late Sir Julius. He apparently had one topic of conversa-
tion: how Julius's death could have been avoided if he had
allowed some one to overhaul his 'plane. In the Captain's
manner was more than a suggestion of open defiance towards
Lucie Malverne, and this defiance was also directed towards
the Swede. Slade noted that Swensen spoke little or nothing
to Furniss, while Lady Malverne treated him to a series of
brief smiles in which she cleverly mingled toleration and
boredom.
At sound of the gong a general drift towards the dining-
room was apparent. The meal was excellently served, and
Slade for one enjoyed the cooking and selective care that
had gone to the preparation of the various courses. After-
wards the company divided itself into groups, Slade and
Clinton taking the opportunity to capture Brooks's atten-
tion and mention the advisability of completing their sur-
vey of Steyning Towers before the guests retired for the
night.
"Very well, sir. I shall be ready in quarter of an hour,"
said Brooks.
In that fifteen minutes the two Yard men finished their
excellent cigars. The late Sir Julius had had a rare taste for
Havana leaf. Ten minutes had passed when Butterick ap-
proached.
His sandy moustache bristling, his sandy hair somewhat
ruffled, and the same subdued expression on his face, he
paused before Slade, and said, "I wonder if you could help
me on a point, Inspector?"
"I will if I can," Slade assured him amiably.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 23
"Just when is the necklace to be—ahem!—actually of-
fered to Mr. Reisenberg for his inspection?"
"I don't know, Mr. Butterick. Perhaps to-night. But
Lady Malverne may intend waiting till the morning. Why?
Have you something on your mind?"
Butterick blinked.
"I'll be candid, Inspector. I'm uneasy. This place, it's so
large. A thief could conceal himself"
"It's wired," Clinton said bluntly.
"It's not only that." Butterick threw away the stub of a
cigarette. "But I feel my position rather keenly. I'm not
exactly"—he smiled, revealing poor teeth—"accustomed to
this environment, and when I have a job to do—as I have
here—I can't settle down. I'm a man with a one-track mind.
I can't at the moment get off the single-line track that those
diamonds are a risky, very risky thing to have lying about
in an isolated place like this."
"I think the Tears of Death will be safe," said Slade
quietly. "There are three of us here to protect them, you
know."
Butterick shrugged.
"Of course, if you feel all right, Inspector—about the
necklace, I mean—there's no need for me to get hot under
the collar, I suppose." He paused, shot a look from Clinton
to Slade, then asked, "Reisenberg, presumably, has a client
behind him? Doubt if he could raise all that coin himself.
Got any idea who's after the diamonds?"
Slade shook his head as the telephone shrilled insistently.
Brooks unhooked the receiver, placed it to his ear, said
quietly, "Just a moment, please. I will tell her," and went
in search of his mistress.
"What on earth can Barry be 'phoning about from


24 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Paris?" asked Lady Malverne's voice some moments later.
"You will soon know," murmured the deep tones of the
tall Swede. "Perhaps he intends to warn you about me . . .
again."
He added the last word after an appreciable pause. Clin-
ton glanced at Slade and nodded.
"Silly Kurt!" said Lady Malverne's voice, gently remon-
strative. "Barry is just a young man with ideas, and young
men shouldn't have ideas . . . some ideas . . . should
they, Kurt?"
The question was a subtle challenge. Swensen's laugh
rang melodiously.
Slade rose softly.
"Let's get out of this, Clinton." He turned to speak to
Butterick, but the insurance company's detective had disap-
peared.
"Who's this Barry fellow?" Clinton asked.
"Her half-brother, Barry Birchall. Lives in Paris most
of the year. So far as I can gather, he violently disliked his
half-sister's late husband."
"Why isn't he over here now?"
"There is a thorn called Furniss, Clinton. I take it that
Lady Malverne had no desire to have the Birchall-Malverne
wrangle continued . . . until after the Swensen episode has
decided itself. Then Captain Furniss won't count a row of
brass hooks."
Brooks appeared.
"Now gentlemen, if you are ready."
He led them along rock-walled corridors, lit with electric
light and hung with tapestries, to the South Tower. He ex-
plained the general plan of the rambling house, picked up
the survey of Sussex history where he had left it before


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 25
dinner, and half an hour passed before they reached a room
before which Brooks hesitated, his sardonic face lit with a
secret enthusiasm.
"In this room, gentlemen, is the safe holding the famous
necklace, brought by Lady Malverne from the late master's
London bank."
A massive oak door frowned at the three men. The hinges
were strips of heavily nailed wrought-iron. It looked more
like the door to a dungeon than to one of the private cham-
bers of the master of the house.
"Have you a key, Brooks?" Slade inquired.
"No, sir. There is only one key. Lady Malverne has that."
"The door is always kept locked?"
"Always, sir."
Brooks moved to continue, and Slade took a couple of
paces after him. Neither saw Clinton reach out a hand to the
octagonal iron handle of the door. The Sergeant turned the
handle, and pushed.
The door opened without a sound.
"Wait a minute," said Clinton, calling after the others.
"I thought you said, Brooks, this door was always kept
locked. Look at it."
Brooks's mouth gaped.
"Why, I don't understand," he frowned. "I've always
understood there has been only the one key, and I know
Lady Malverne had it after Sir Julius was killed."
"Perhaps Lady Malverne has been showing the necklace
to Mr. Reisenberg," said Slade, remembering the insurance
company detective's question.
Brooks, however, shook his head.
"I don't think so, sir. Lady Malverne told me she would
take the necklace from the safe to-morrow."


26 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Well, we'll look inside." Slade stepped into the darkness
of the room and fumbled for a light switch. He found it
and flooded the room with yellow light. "Good Lord!" he
exclaimed, swinging about and staring at a corner of the far
side of the room.
The door of an iron safe was open, and on the floor in
front of the safe was sprawled the body of a young man.
A doctor's stethoscope and an oilskin case of tools lay on the
floor beside the body.
Slade motioned to Clinton to close the door of the room.
He turned and examined the safe. Not finding the necklace,
he ran his hands over the still figure.
"The necklace is gone," he announced slowly.
"Gone . . . stolen!" muttered Brooks in an awed voice.
"It's enough to make Sir Julius turn in his grave. He
worshipped that necklace."
Clinton stared at Slade and pointed to the sprawled body.
"How does that fit in?" he asked.
"When he comes round we shall soon know."
"He isn't dead?"
"No. Some one gave him a hard crack over the head
and . . ."
The Yard man shrugged. The rest was open to anyone's
guess. Clinton voiced his.
"—and made off with the diamonds."
"It looks like it," said Slade. "The open door, the open
safe."
Clinton pointed again to the body.
"He had to get in some way—and somewhere."
"If he's who I think he is that didn't present him with
much of a problem," said Slade.
"Who is he?" Clinton asked.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 27
"A clever safe-opener named Bill Pegwell. Hasn't long
been out." Slade frowned. "There's something I'm trying
to remember. It'll come to me in a moment . . . some-
thing about PegwelPs wife, a girl who got a job somewhere
. . . now, where was "The Yard man straight-
ened. "I remember. Mrs. Pegwell is employed by Reisen-
berg."
Clinton's eyes widened.
"My Lord!" he exclaimed. "What a set-up!"


Chapter III
"Brooks!" Slade turned to the wide-eyed butler. "I don't
want news of this discovery circulated. You understand?
Not until I am ready."
"Yes, sir." The sallow promontory in the centre of the
butler's scrawny throat wobbled uncertainly. "But Lady
Malverne, sir ... I don't like the responsibility of not
telling her"
"I'll take the responsibility, Brooks," said the Yard man.
"I believe the staff are all accounted for. No newcomers?"
"No, sir. We're all, as you might say, old retainers. Been
here since Sir Julius bought the Towers."
"Very well, Brooks. Go downstairs and carry on nor-
mally. If anyone inquires for me, I am still inspecting the
South Tower."
"Very good, sir."
After another backward glance Brooks opened the door
and moved silently outside. As the massive door closed the
young man on the floor groaned. His eyes opened, and he
tried to sit up, only to fall back with a muttered "Ouch!"
as pain stormed his head.
Clinton brought forward a chair, and the two Yard men
helped the other man into it.
Through a lattice of fingers the young man stared at the
open door of the safe. Black straight frown-lines were in-
cised in his forehead. His hair, matted with blood, stuck out
at crazy angles from his head.
"What hellish luck!" he muttered.
18


3o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Bill"—Slade eased a persuasive note into his voice—
"you've got a wife, haven't you? I remember she took it
badly when you went inside last time."
Bill's hands trembled. The fingers locked tightly, so that
the flesh was pinched over the knuckles, under his gloves.
"Leave her out of this. Leave her out, I say. You've got
nothing on her." Desperately Bill told himself he must re-
gain control, but he made the effort too late. Both Slade and
Clinton, watching every muscular move in the young man's
face, saw his eyes turn swiftly to the window, then drop
hurriedly. "You've got nothing on me."
"Sure, Bill? Isn't that your kit of tools?" Slade pointed
to the safe-breaking tools beside the open door of the safe.
"That dark muffler round your neck looks like a mask, and
you're wearing rubber gloves. You don't think we've got
nothing on you, do you?"
Bill threw a wild glance at the detective's set face. There
was quiet humour in the Yard man's grey eyes, and some-
thing else, something that sent a cold feeling down Bill's
spine.
"All right, it's a pinch, but I was outed before I got the
stuff."
"That's better, Bill. You're talking more like a reasonable
person. Go on."
"There's nothing else. That's all. I came here, got in,
opened the door, and that's all I know. I came to with you
shaking me."
"What about the person who knocked you out? Any idea
who it could be?"
"No, my back was turned. And whoever it was had a
tread like a cat. I wouldn't have taken such a wallop if I'd


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 31
heard a step. I'm pretty speedy on my pins, and I reckon
I've got good ears."
Slade thought for a moment.
"How did you get here, Bill?"
The other's suspicions returned. He shot a narrow, scru-
tinizing glance from Slade to Clinton, and what he found
in the face of each man did not reassure him. He pushed
the point of his tongue over suddenly dried Hps. One
thought was in his mind. They mustn't know about Tessa.
She must be kept out of this. She must!
"That's my business," he muttered. "I came alone, if
that's what you're getting at."
"In a roundabout way it was, Bill. But there's no call to
lie about it."
Slade spoke lightly, but the words flayed the yojmg man.
He sprang to his feet, his face twitching from the spasm
of pain that shot down his neck at the sudden movement.
"I'm not lying!" he shouted, brandishing a gloved fist,
and swaying uncertainly on his feet. "I came alone. Think
I'd let anyone in on a job like this?"
His sneer was not very successful.
"You'd have been a fool to try a job like this without
arranging a quick get-away, Bill. Come by car?"
"No, train."
"How did you get from the station, four miles away, to
Steyning Towers?"
Bill sat down. This was a puzzler. He realized that he had
spoken too quickly, had jumped without thinking where
he was landing. . . .
"Don't spend long thinking up another lie, Bill. You
came in a car, and you didn't come alone, did you? You've


32 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
got that car parked somewhere near, Bill, and there's some
one waiting at the steering-wheel. You planned it as a
smash-and-grab raid."
Bill's head rolled, and for a moment his eyes closed with
pain and a hand went to his head. The fingers, when he
took them away, were smeared with blood. He gazed dully
at the stain, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Tessa must
get away. He must play for time . . . for time.
He wiped the blood from his fingers slowly, rubbing his
hand against his coat. "What are you charging me with?"
he demanded.
Slade's mouth relaxed. He nodded towards the safe.
"Being concerned in the disappearance of Lady Mal-
verne's diamonds. For disappearance I may substitute a
stronger word later."
Would Tessa realize something had happened? Would
she go, keep the promise she had made? Bill was torn with
anxiety. She had been right. The cards had been stacked
against him. It was a trick. Suspicion flared in his mind and
lit his eyes.
"Was it you who?"
His clenched hand tapped his head.
"You're not being bright, Bill." Slade grinned wryly. "If
I had had any say in the matter I should have preferred
to take you with the diamonds."
Bill's hand dropped down again. He was defeated. He
knew that now, and the truth seared. Yes, he had walked
like a fool into a trap. His hand had been on the necklace.
In the ray from his torch the brilliance of the diamonds had
been like whirling dagger-shafts of light. No, it hadn't been
a police-trap. Some one else had been after the diamonds.
That some one had coshed him and got clear.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 33
Resentment, fierce as a flame, strong as a sudden-turned
tide, welled in him.
"By God, I'll get even!" he growled.
Slade caught Clinton's eye.
"We're wasting our time," said the Sergeant.
Slade turned to the seated man.
"Bill, I don't know what to do with you," he said frankly.
"I come in here and find you knocked out. I should treat you
as a victim of assault, I suppose. Yet it's plain you came to
crack a crib. Plainer than that: you did crack it. But you
got cracked in turn. No, I don't know what to do with
you."
"What d'you mean?"
Doubt, mistrust, were in the one of his voice.
"If I show you I show my hand." Slade folded his arms
as he stood contemplating the other. "On the other hand,
if I let you go, say nothing, somebody's suspicions will be
lulled. But I've got no more right to let you go than I have
to give you the necklace when I find it."
Bill's cockney humour appreciated the point.
"Let me go, and we'll forget the necklace. Call it a deal.
You may never find it."
"That would be so much worse for you, my friend,"
Slade reminded him.
Clinton put in a word.
"Think it may be a plant?" he asked his chief.
Slade looked at the blood-matted hair crowning Bill's
blunt face and shook his head.
"Friends don't hit as hard as that, Clinton. Not even to
put up a good bluff. This lad's lucky to be alive." The words
gave Slade a thought. "Did you tell any pals you were com-
ing here, Bill?"


34 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Say, what do you think I am?"
"A young man who's sorry he didn't keep his hands out
of mischief."
Bill's only rejoinder was a lugubrious scowl. His only
comfort in those slowly passing minutes was the reflection
that it couldn't be long now before Tessa drove off ... if
she kept her promise. But would she? She was the sort of
girl that sometimes takes things into her own hands, with
startling results. That job at Reisenberg's. She had kept the
rent paid on the rooms, and if he knew anything about
Tessa had kept the Jew in his place. But supposing she didn't
drive away. . . .
"Still got that something on his mind," Slade said, speak-
ing to Clinton.
"Yes, he's just giving his head another ache trying to
forget it. Probably the missus has been stepping out."
This was an old game with Clinton and Slade, baiting a
man. However, on this occasion Clinton never knew how
close his last shot sped towards the mark.
Bill slewed round in his chair.
"Give over, can't you?" he grumbled. "I've had enough
of sitting here like a damned fool. You've got me, but you
haven't got the sparklers. All right, the game's still open,
and I'm in the pot. Let's get on with it."
He rose, again staggered uncertainly forward for a few
steps. He stopped when Slade's firm grasp closed on his
shoulder.
"Don't get riled, Bill. Those diamonds are more im-
portant than you just at present. But you're not going to
help yourself by being a fool and keeping your mouth shut."
"Tell me what to say," Bill jeered.


3 6 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Bill paused for breath.
Reisenberg dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief. His
battered lip was bleeding freely, and there was a growing
discoloration under his right eye.
"Pegwell. . . ." The Jew's sound eye discovered the
open safe, and his lips pressed tightly together. "So, you're
here on a job, you dirty crook."
"Crook!" Bill sucked breath sharply, struggled futilely
in Clinton's restraining grip. "You dirty double-twister,
you took the necklace. I get it. Pretend you're going to buy
it. You've got some rich client. Yes, you wanted to make a
lot of dough in a hurry"
Reisenberg's little eyes snapped.
"Apparently I wasn't the only one."
Bill's spate of words rushed on. "And you wanted Tessa!"
He struggled again, and Clinton pushed him down in a chair.
Slade spoke. "Interesting to know you're not strangers.
Just why did you come up to this room?" he asked Reisen-
berg.
The Jew scowled.
"I don't like your tone, Inspector."
"You don't have to, but I should appreciate an answer
to my question."
Each man had bared a blade and the ring of steel was in
the room.
"I saw the butler come down, and I was . . . curious.
Does that satisfy you?"
"It's a reason," said Slade non-committally.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean you've made me . . . curious, Mr. Reisenberg.
The Malverne diamonds have disappeared."


3 8 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
his way to where Lady Malverne and the Swede were amus-
ing themselves in the drawing-room. They were alone, and
the piano at which they sat was strewn with copies of jazz
songs. As Slade entered he was greeted with a crashing dis-
cord in the treble clef and a peal of hilarious laughter.


40 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
The word was a hollow echo of the last word uttered by
the detective.
"A burglar with a record was found by the opened safe,
Lady Malverne. He had been brutally beaten over the head,
and was unconscious"
"He won't . . .?"
"No, he won't die. But he hasn't the diamonds. He says
he had opened the safe, got his hands on the necklace, and
that's all he remembers before he found me bending over
him. You realize the implication?"
"Naturally." Her voice had lost its timbre. Some of the
colour, the vividness faded. Her glance was suddenly bleak.
"The thief is here."
"With the diamonds."
"Yes, with the diamonds." She said it tonelessly. "What
do you propose?"
"I am afraid I shall have to make a search."
She started. "Will that be . . . necessary?" Something
was on her mind.
"I don't see how I can avoid it, Lady Malverne. There
is a thief here. I believe a clever thief."
She reached for her cigarette-case. Slade was ready with a
light. She inhaled deeply. That something was on her mind
still. Slade wondered if she suspected Swensen. Did she sense
that she was about to face an abrupt and brutal disillusion.
She was mentally alert. She glanced up and read the
thought in his mind, and cleverly tried to prepare herself.
"Have you any suspicion, Inspector?"
"I will be frank, Lady Malverne. No. This young safe-
breaker we've caught has a grudge against Mr. Reisenberg.
He accuses Mr. Reisenberg of stealing the necklace."
"Would that be possible?"


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 41
"Until I have checked Mr. Reisenberg's movements since
dinner—yes. But then the same conditions apply to anyone
here. Mrs. Reisenberg, Captain Furniss, Mrs. Clammer . . .
Mr. Swensen."
The tip of her cigarette glowed, but her fingers were
steady as she removed it from her mouth, and her voice was
calm as she said, "That is so, of course."
But she did not allow her gaze to meet Slade's. The Yard
man, desirous of knowing just how strong were her de-
fences, added, "Even yourself, Lady Malverne."
"Indeed. Doesn't that require an explanation?"
There was reserve in her manner now. She had succeeded
in detaching herself from the emotion that had all but be-
trayed her.
"I am sorry if I am blunt, Lady Malverne."
"One doesn't apologize for bluntness these days, Inspec-
tor." She had trust in herself; she looked up, cold, aloof,
wary. "I have generally found that the blunt person even-
tually proves to be the sharpest, in another sense."
Slade realized that he was matched against a worthy op-
ponent. Yet was she an . . . opponent? He hesitated so to
classify her. How much was caution, how much feminine
doubt?
He said, "The explanation is simple. You are insured,
Lady Malverne, against theft."
He left it at that, knowing that she would see to what he
was pointing. He was not mistaken. She nodded slowly.
"Yes, I suppose, Inspector, an ingenuous mind must seem
somewhat incredulous to you, but I hadn't realized the im-
plication until you pointed it out. A hundred and fifty
thousand pounds and the necklace would be—what do you
say?—a nice haul."


42 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Bitterness coated the words, made utterance difficult. She
threw away the cigarette, plucked a crease from her gown.
"Well, you are probably thinking a foolish woman
brought it on her own head. You may be right. I can only
say, Inspector, that you must consider yourself free to un-
dertake such investigation as you see fit. The staff will help
in any way you"
"I'm afraid I cannot expect much from the servants,
Lady Malverne. Suspicion in this case must extend below-
stairs as well as above."
Her shapely shoulders lifted.
"That is for you to decide. Now, if you will excuse me, I
should like to be alone for a little while."
"Of course."
Slade rose, but he had not reached the door before it was
opened and Reisenberg entered. He looked round the room
with the air of a conspirator in a third-rate melodrama,
closed the door with excessive care, and came forward. He
had repaired the damage done to his features by Bill, but his
eye was almost closed.
"This is a pretty kettle of fish," he began, talking at the
woman rather than to her. "Down here, miles from any-
where, and a necklace worth a hundred and fifty thousand
lifted under our noses. Something smells—smells badly."
His mood was black, and it was plain that he was not
willing to be pleasant. He took a cigar from a case, bit off
the end, and lit it. His white fat hands fluttered in front of
his face as he resumed.
"I want to get out of this place quick. So the quicker
the police are through with their job, the better it'll suit me.
I don't want to remain here a minute longer than I've got
to, not a minute."


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 43
Lady Malverne regarded him contemptuously.
"So far as I am concerned, Mr. Reisenberg, you are free
to leave now. I might remind you that I am the owner of
the necklace," she added caustically.
"You're insured. If I'd paid over it would have been a
dead loss for me."
"You imply, Mr. Reisenberg, that you don't think it will
be recovered?"
"I don't care a bean whether it is or whether it isn't. My
interest in the deal is finished. I'm getting out from under.
See? I should have had more sense than let myself be
brought down here on such a deal. It wasn't asking for
trouble. It was broadcasting."
He mopped his face with his bloodstained handkerchief.
His cheeks had a greyish tinge, and the opals in his shirt-
front seemed to have lost some of their fire. He swung
round on the Yard man.
"What are you going to do?"
"Search every one's rooms."
"Think that'll recover the diamonds?"
"No," said Slade bluntly. "This job's been planned."
"That swine Pegwell's in on it."
"Think so?"
"A blind man could see how the case ties up. Pegwell lays
down with a crack over the head. That kept you here run-
ning round in circles. Meantime the stuff's cleared out of the
place."
"How did Pegwell know I should find him just when I
did, Mr. Reisenberg?"
The Jew frowned.
"It's your job to answer that. Don't think I know, do
you?"


44 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"He says you took the necklace. He seems to have some
reason for not liking you."
Reisenberg winced.
"That's nothing to do with it. I did that little crook a
good turn when I gave his wife a job after he'd been sent to
stir. This is how I'm repaid for my generosity."
Lady Malverne said: "If you two gentlemen will forgive
me, this is all a trifle over my head. I hardly consider my
presence necessary at the debate."
"No," said Reisenberg, his voice rising, "but it's necessary
to hear what I've got to say." He moistened his hps, spat a
piece of cigar-leaf from his teeth, and moved forward sev-
eral paces. "My wife's a jealous woman, and a jealous
woman's unreasonable. When I say she's very jealous you'll
know how unreasonable she can be." He paused, consider-
ing his next words carefully. "I don't want her to see that
fellow Pegwell."
"I'm afraid I shan't have anything to say in the matter,"
said Lady Malverne.
"Maybe not. But I don't want Mrs. Reisenberg even to
know he's here. Get me? PegwelPs wife works in my office.
She's a good worker; that's why I keep her. But I've told
you, my wife's a jealous woman."
Slade saw that Lady Malverne was more amused than
anything else at this request.
"If it eases your mind, Mr. Reisenberg, I've forgotten In-
spector Slade has a . . . prisoner."
"Thanks," said the Jew, heaving a sigh of relief. His gaze
swivelled. "You, Inspector?"
"My job's to find the necklace, not to nose out divorce
court evidence."
Reisenberg scowled.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 45
"That wasn't what I meant at all," he grunted, turned
about, and left them.
"Rather effective, Inspector," smiled the woman, "and
cleverly blunt."
Slade left her. He found Clinton. The sergeant had locked
Bill Pegwell in a room from which escape was impossible.
"Seen Butterick?" asked Slade.
"No."
"Then he doesn't know?"
"I haven't told him. What about Reisenberg?"
"Come on. I want to break the news first, Clinton."
They found the insurance company's detective reading a
magazine in the smoking-room and carrying on a silent par-
ticipation in a one-sided conversation. Captain Furniss was
explaining with considerable volubility why within five
years India would cease to have a British Emperor. "Spend
millions to educate 'em to stand on their own feet," he was
saying as the Yard men came in, "and what do you get for
it? A kick in the backside when you're not prepared for it.
That's India. That's the Indians. We've been too dashed
lenient, sir. Pampering 'em and"
Butterick was rescued from the remainder of the pep-
pery Captain's tirade. Slade explained briefly what had hap-
pened. The sandy-haired man asked a stream of questions,
all prefaced with why, and when, and how. The only an-
swers Slade could supply were unsatisfactory and disheart-
ening.
"Well, thank heavens you two Yard men are here!" he
exclaimed. "The company will expect action."
"The company will get action," promised Slade. "I'm
going to run a rule over the whole place, and I'm starting
now. I want you to keep an eye down here, if you will."


46 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Of course, anything I can"
"That'll be all, I think."
Away from Butterick, Clinton said to Slade, "You don't
think he's much of a detective, do you?"
"I'm not concerned with what sort of a detective he is,
Clinton," Slade replied. "All I want is first look. I don't
want to have to blame some one else for a slip-up, that's all."
By midnight the two Yard men had completed their
search. The news that the necklace had disappeared was
known to every one in Steyning Towers by then. But when
Slade and Clinton had finished their search they had not
found the diamonds or any clue to their whereabouts.
"Where can they be?" asked Clinton, tired and puzzled.
"Cached somewhere. We'll give somebody time to move
them. That'll be our chance. Things look more hopeful by
daylight."
Reisenberg approached.
"When can I get away?"
"To-morrow, if you're lucky," said Slade.
"You can't hold me here "the Jew blustered.
"I'm not holding you here," Slade pointed out sharply.
"But if you leave suddenly I shall put you under arrest.
That's all."
Reisenberg glowered, and went away without another
word.
"I'd like to know what's on his mind," Clinton muttered.
"You'd sleep easier if you didn't," was Slade's reply.
"Hallo, Butterick." The insurance detective had passed the
retreating Reisenberg. "Anything to tell me?"
"No. That Swensen's worn my nerves out, that's about
all."
"How?"


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 49
A warm wave of satisfaction that this should be so swept
over her, and she sat enjoying the sensation it imparted.
Cold doubt followed on the heels of her satisfaction. Some-
thing had gone wrong! She knew it. Ice lay next to her
heart, which beat heavily, like a leaden thing. Tessa knew
herself to be hard-moulded. The world had not been kind to
her until she met Bill. She had fought and fended for her-
self, and in her own assessment of personal values managed
to keep herself unsullied. She was glad of that when she met
Bill. She and Bill had their own code by which they lived,
and that code demanded a shining honesty in any matter
where the other was concerned.
But how could she be honest now? She had promised Bill
she would go after thirty-five minutes. That promise was
broken. She was still there, waiting. Hope had succeeded
hope, but Bill had not come. In the background of her mind
was another thought, one that hurt and seared. Bill would
not come now. Something had gone wrong.
Wrong.
Dread italicized the word in her mind. With futile despair
she tried to figure out what it implied. Was Bill a prisoner?
Was he hurt? Had he been shot?
Impatience seized her mind. She had to strive hard for
control. Desperately she wanted to leap from the car, to
run to that house of dark shadows in its expanse of starlit
parkland, to shout Bill's name, and demand that he be given
back to her.
Again reaction set in.
The hard-moulded young woman told herself she was
becoming hysterical, and that would be no way to help Bill.
Something cold and tingly touched the side of her nose, and
she realized with amazement that tears were trickling down


jo THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
her face. In the darkness she repaired the damage to her
make-up. Bill didn't like a shiny nose.
It was after putting her compact away that she turned
on the dashboard light and glanced at her watch. It was al-
most ten o'clock.
Pressing her back against the seat, she tried to understand
what this implied. Bill had made his plan with care. He had
left her at five-and-twenty minutes past eight, calculating
that he would be at the house in seven minutes. Another
four to locate the room with the safe. That was cutting it
fine, but Bill had said four was enough, and he should know.
A quarter of an hour for the actual job. Bill had said that
would allow him time to sleep on it. Nine minutes to get
away.
He should have been back by nine o'clock.
It was ten . . . must be gone ten by now.
In an agony of doubt and mental torment she reached
forward and whirred the self-starter, throttled down the
cooled engine, and without switching on her headlights
drove slowly out of the lane. She was retreating, leaving
Bill to his fate, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Her last despairing survey of the situation had revealed
clearly to her the danger her presence was to Bill. If he
was caught search might be made for an accomplice. Her
capture would only serve to make things worse for Bill.
That was why he had insisted upon her leaving after thirty-
five minutes . . . but no, she corrected herself, that wasn't
the reason; not because it would make things worse for him.
He had been thinking of her, not of himself.
Thought rotated in a vortex, until she could not think
clearly. She was miserable and defeated, and the drive back


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 51
alone, without Bill, would be a journey without hope.
Swiftly she swung the steering-wheel, to avoid crashing
into a projecting tree, then braked as she came to the main
road, running past the grounds of Steyning Towers. She
changed gears silently, and was about to switch on her head-
lights when her glance, travelling up the road instinctively,
to note any oncoming traffic, saw a figure detach itself from
the shadow of the tall hedge bounding the Steyning Towers
estate.
Bill!
Her lips parted eagerly to cry his name, but in that mo-
ment before the word could be uttered she knew with in-
stinctive certainty that the person in the road was not Bill.
She glanced round. Trees drooped their foliage over the en-
trance to the narrow lane, and the car was probably hidden
from the figure she was watching. The low note of the en-
gine would not be heard above the deeper moaning of the
wind.
Luck was with her. Here might be a chance to help Bill.
This might be some one sent to reconnoitre, discover if an
accomplice was awaiting Bill's return.
Her mouth set grimly. Now was her chance to chalk up
something on the credit side for Bill. If anything had hap-
pened to him . . .
She saw the figure begin to run, and thought stopped
dead.
The person in the road was a woman!
Tessa hesitated, listening to the idle ticking over of the
engine, undecided what to do. Could this woman know
anything about Bill's failure to return? Logic, cold and
hope-dispelling, said no. The woman might not be anyone


j 2 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
who had even heard of Steyning Towers. She might be a
chance traveller who had lost her way.
But chance travellers did not appear out of boundary
hedges past ten o'clock at night and suddenly break into a
sharp run ... without reason.
Tessa decided to give the woman a fair start, and then to
follow, if necessary drive slowly past her, with her head-
lights glaring full on her, and to wait again farther on. She
could not, she realized, play that sort of hide-and-seek for
long, but she might discover something, and, anyway, it
was a chance; and Bill . . .
It was the recurrence of Bill in her thoughts that decided
her, and set her upon the strangest adventure in which she
had ever engaged.
She drove slowly along the lane, the twin beams from
her headlamps cleaving the darkness like sabre blades. Ahead
the running woman dodged from one side of the road to
the other. Only when the car had almost come up with her
did she turn her head, and Tessa caught her breath. In a pale
porcelain face two flashing dark eyes glared round appre-
hensively. The woman was running with her hands clutched
in front of her, holding her coat.
In that moment as she stared into the pretty face of the
stranger a wild idea flashed into Tessa's mind.
She braked, and put out her head.
"Can I give you a lift?" she inquired.
Breathing hard, the woman came close.
"Would you be so kind? I'm afraid I missed the last bus,
and I've a train to catch."
It was glib, but the words sent a strange, tingling sensa-
tion through Tessa's body. She thought she recognized in


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 55
and traced to the place where Bill had hired it, despite Bill's
precaution in changing the number-plate. That would look
bad for Bill.
Tessa's wits were nimble. She had placed the car safely
out of the way of the police. Now remained the woman.
She approached the gas-lit station warily. The uninviting
waiting-room was filled with gaunt shadows. She walked
in, went to the booking office, and inquired about the next
London train. It was due in twenty-three minutes, she was
told, and it was a very slow train, stopping at nearly every
station, as it picked up and dropped quite a lot of local pro-
duce.
Tessa bought a third-class ticket and hid herself among
the shadows on the platform. The other woman had disap-
peared.
Those twenty-three minutes dragged by. To Tessa they
seemed longer, even, than the minutes spent waiting in the
car parked in the narrow country lane, with the wind and
an owl disturbing the night silence. A few other people
came on to the platform. A farmer with his wife. The lat-
ter was very voluble on the subject of dog powders, and
when her husband tried to change the conversation to dry-
feed for cattle she would have none of it. None of the pow-
ders she had tried had done Sparkles any good. With lack of
marital tact the husband inquired if she had tried gun-
powder.
"That should put the spark back into him, by gum!" he
guffawed.
The effect on his spouse was certainly explosive.
Tiring of listening to this sort of rural humour, Tessa
wandered some feet away, where a country courting couple
were giggling and all but choking. Three minutes in their


5 6 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
proximity nearly drove the restive girl frantic.
At last the train wandered in, roaring and belching flame
and smoke, but doing little exciting in the way of making
progress. Tessa got in a non-smoker in the rear, and watched
the others get into forward compartments. The guard wan-
dered up to have a word with a station attendant, they
laughed hoarsely at some joke or other, and then the whistle
blew. The train was moving when Tessa saw the strange
woman run from a door marked "Ladies' Waiting-room"
and climb into a first-class carriage. She heard the slam of
the door as she sank back against the upholstery, and for
several moments kept her eyes closed.
The chug-chug of the engine was lulling, and she would
have dropped off to sleep had she not pulled herself together
with the mental reminder that she must keep watch at every
halt the train made. There was at least a chance that the
other woman might elude her by getting out at some inter-
mediate station. She must not drop off to sleep. She glanced
at the sign on the window—"Non-smoking." Habitually
when travelling by train she chose a non-smoking compart-
ment, because men usually travelled in smokers. She had
followed her habit in this case. But it was a habit that could
be broken in part, and she proceeded to break it. In glaring
defiance of the notices on the windows and over the seats she
took a cigarette from her handbag and lit it.
Then began a long vigil.
However, the foreign woman did not alight at any of the
country stations. She remained on the train until it pulled
into East Croydon. Tessa saw her walking briskly along the
platform towards the farther exist. As the woman reached
the long incline Tessa got off the train and started in pur-
suit. She quickened her step until she had diminished the


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 57
other's lead to some twenty yards. They followed each other
out of the station to a bus stop. It was late, gone midnight,
but a few 'last' buses were arriving and collecting the late-
comers. Tessa, waiting in a shop doorway, saw the other
woman climb aboard one, and she ran across the pavement
and managed to get on before it had gathered considerable
speed. A side-glance revealed the other woman inside, her
back to Tessa. Tessa climbed to the top deck, and resumed
her watch on the other woman's movements. When at last
the stranger got off the bus Tessa was already moving out of
her seat. She dropped to the pavement in time to see her
quarry walking into the courtyard of a large block of mod-
ern flats. An electric flare illumined the name Dunbar
Court. Shrubs and trees spangled the fore-court, and a run-
way for cars sloped down to a long line of garages.
Tessa saw the woman she was following push open swing
glass doors and step forward to a flight of stairs. Tessa
passed through the swing-doors as the other woman rounded
a wide bend in the stairs. Apparently, as it was after mid-
night, the lifts were not working.
Moving silently, listening to the steps of the woman half
a flight of stairs ahead, Tessa mounted to the third floor,
and paused. The steps had stopped. Cautiously she crept up-
ward to the next flight, and, flattening her slim figure
against a wall, pushed her head round a corner, to see the
other woman disappearing through a green door on which
the brass numerals 73 shone brightly.
Tessa straightened, and breathed a sigh of relief. She had
run her quarry to earth. This was where the woman lived.
However, that list of questions formulated in her mind in
the darkness as she ran along a Sussex road remained to be
answered, and, after proceeding this far, Tessa was in no


58 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
hurry to leave her self-appointed task uncompleted. She de-
bated the wisdom of boldly calling on the woman and sur-
prising her into an admission. But recollection of the suave
manner in which the woman had got into the rear of the car
and avoided a close scrutiny by the woman offering her a
lift, caused Tessa to reflect that perhaps she was up against
some one who would prove to be no mean opponent. A
woman, perhaps, accustomed to finding herself in awkward
situations, and to bluffing her way out.
Tessa's indecision was terminated by her observance of a
door with a bolt-locking device. Instantly her mind was
made up; here was an exit to suit her purpose. The door must
lead on to a balcony or elevated garden of sorts. Anyway, it
would most likely provide her with a means of reaching a
window of the other woman's flat.
She opened the door silently. The bolt-locking device was
well oiled, and slipped back with scarcely more sound than
a quiet click. She stepped out on to a balcony running the
length of that side of the block of flats, protected by a con-
crete wall topped with an ornate railing. All this she saw in
the light shining from an uncurtained window. A tremor of
excitement ran through her body, for she realized, as she
turned to face the stream of light pouring from the win-
dow, that it must be in the flat of the woman she had trailed
from the roar near Steyning Towers.
Her excitement, for some wholly inexplicable reason,
continued to mount. She walked to the balcony wall, looked
over at the street-lamps below, and moved back to the wall
of the flat. She now saw that curtains had been hastily
pulled to, but that one had dragged against a window-seat,
leaving a gap near the sill. It was through this gap that the


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 59
light streamed out across the balcony, touching a bed of
chrysanthemums.
Tessa crouched under the window, and cautiously raised
her head. She saw the other woman, her coat and hat flung
across a settee, seated at a table speaking into a telephone.
All at once the woman pushed down the receiver and took
a packet of cigarettes from a pocket of her overcoat. She lit
one, inhaled deeply, and as she threw back her head Tessa
saw the light from a blue-shaded lamp shimmer along the
red waves of her hair.
There was a look on the woman's face that defeated
Tessa's mental analysis. Was it apprehension, greed, or re-
lief? It might have been any one, Tessa decided. She waited,
watching the woman smoke cigarette after cigarette. And to
Tessa's mind came an explanation. She was putting through
a long-distance call and was waiting to be called back.
Nearly half an hour went by, and Tessa was painfully aware
that one of her legs had gone to sleep and there was a severe
crick in her neck. But grimly she stuck it out, waited for a
'phone call that she was sure would come through.
It did, nearly forty minutes after it had been asked for.
But Tessa was not to know that that particular call had
necessitated the clearance of a submarine cable.
The woman grabbed the receiver eagerly. Tessa saw her
lips pouring words into the instrument. And once the
woman laughed, tossed back her head in an arrogant ges-
ture, and her white teeth gleamed against the red slit of her
mouth. Tessa heard the sound of that laugh through the
window, but, although she listened closely, trying to catch
the words the woman spoke she was not successful. She
tried to read the formation of the words on the woman's


60 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
lips, but the movements were far too quick for her to fol-
low. With a feeling of being baulked, she desisted, wonder-
ing what would be the next move for her to make.
Tiredness was assailing her limbs, and she was cold. Even
thought of Bill had now less of its original poignancy, al-
though regret and misery still lay deep and cold in her heart.
But she had ceased to think of what the years would mean
while he was again serving time in prison. The dark grey
months were one with the night that surrounded her.
Her lassitude was dispersed momentarily by the rocking
sound of another loud laugh from the woman at the tele-
phone. She seemed to be shouting at the person at the other
end of the wire. Tessa saw her frown, her left hand make
an airy gesture, and then plunge into an inner pocket of the
coat flung across the settee.
Tessa's eyes, tired and hot, and aching for the want of
sleep, brightened, and she took a deep breath. She blinked
and stared again, unbelievingly. But unbelief changed to
amazed wonder.
"Bill—oh, Bill!" she murmured.
The numbness departed from her leg, the crick from her
neck. She forgot her discomfort as she remained crouched
there, fingers grasping the window-sill for support. The
woman in the flat was again speaking rapidly into the
'phone, which was held close to her mouth, and as she spoke
her gaze was lowered to a cascade of light pouring from the
extended fingers of her left hand.
Tessa knew that she was looking at the Malverne dia-
monds, that fateful necklace known as the Tears of Death.


Chapter VI
True to his word, Anthony Slade was in the grounds of
Steyning Towers at daybreak. In the east the sun poked
flushed fingers over a high ridge of trees. There had been
some rain about two o'clock. Slade had stood at the window
of his room watching it. Now the air was cleaned and fresh,
and the first songs of the birds rose clear and piping. Slade
had finished his examination of the ground near the house,
and was strolling along one of the paths towards a distant
summer-house, partly hidden by trees, when he became
aware of a figure running along a converging path.
He paused, thinking for the moment that the other
person must have observed him. But the running steps
continued, and then, between some bushes, he saw the
bathrobed figure of Lady Malverne springing towards the
summer-house. A floating laugh met the detective's ear. He
glanced back. Another bathrobed figure was chasing the
first. In the early morning sunshine Kurt Swensen's yellow
hair gleamed like burnished brass.
Neither of the runners seemed perturbed by loss of the
jewels or the disturbance of the previous night. Slade re-
called Lady Malverne's first acceptance of the news, her re-
action to the doubt and suspicion that had immediately as-
sailed her mind, and realized that he was seeing another
facet of a remarkable woman. She might be suspicious of
Swensen—furthermore, there might be cause for her sus-
picion; cause of which Slade knew nothing—but to Swen-
sen she would reveal no change.
61


6i THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Or was she herself a clever, scheming woman?
Slade walked down the path to the summer-house, and
saw beyond it a small shelving beach and a clear lake of
water. White arms were thrashing the silver surface of the
lake and laughter rose in ripples. Slade stood in the shelter of
a rustic arch and watched. He saw the swimmers racing
neck and neck, and then gradually one pulled ahead. It was
the Swede. The detective saw him reach the farther bank,
turn, and laughingly await the arrival of the woman. To-
gether they rose, turned back, and headed once more across
the stretch of water, to the accompaniment of joyous splash-
ing and laughter.
Slade was minded of a couple of children on holiday. The
scene was fair, the sweet air of morning was a tonic for the
blood; it was a setting where carefree laughter should echo
and light hearts be unfettered. He watched the bobbing
heads. The woman turned on her side, the bright green of
her rubber cap a splash of bold colour, and called to the man
swimming a few yards to her right. Slade could not catch
the words, but they brought a resounding laugh from the
Swede, who suddenly disappeared under the water, and
some seconds later reappeared a considerable distance ahead.
The woman made haste to follow, and they were keenly
racing again for the opposite shore. Swensen's athletic figure
pulled itself from the water, and stood waiting for Lady
Malverne. Slade could not but help admire the technique of
the Swede as a swimmer. He was fast and powerful. Equally
the Yard man admired the Swede's physical grace. A maroon
swimming-suit encased his trunk, from which his limbs
projected, brown and tapering and muscular. Above the
laughing face the yellow hair gleamed wetly in the thin
sunshine.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 63
t
Across the intervening space Slade heard the woman's
call as she came out of the water.
"What about a dive, Kurt?"
'H^l race you round to the spring-board, Lucie."
/mother race was on. To Slade it was a frolicsome gambol
by two youngsters bent on getting the most out of life. Im-
bued with the same spirit of fun and love of motion, they
were playing in a little world apart, and the thought made
the Yard man feel an interloper. He felt that he had no
right to witness the playing of these two people so obviously
attracted by each other by something stronger than mere
mutual liking.
Yet the watching detective made no move to go. He was
aware of another feeling, one of caution, a feeling that told
him to remain, to watch. Caution whispered that there
might be a development. Perhaps, after all, Lady Malverne
was not happy in her mind about the loss of the necklace
. . . and Swensen.
From what he remembered of the newspaper articles on
Swensen at the time of the Olympic Games, Slade had con-
ceived an impression that he was not particularly well en-
dowed with this world's goods and chattels. What if Lady
Malverne had decided she could not marry him? What if
thought of losing a rich wife had turned his thoughts in
other directions . . . jewels, the necklace of diamonds that
was worth a considerable fortune in itself?
There were a number of possibilities in the combination
of individuals and circumstances that intrigued Slade. These
possibilities, not completely framed or thought out, lay in
the back of his mind, ready to be drawn to the fore if oc-
casion turned his thoughts in that direction. But the fact
that they were there, dormant, probably accounted for that


64 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
feeling of caution which caused him to remain, watching.
Some minutes later he was thankful that he had remained.
He was able to arrive at the spring-board without Swensen
leaving his sight. And Lady Malverne disappeared for a
matter of only seconds while she made the dive that resulted
in a tragic discovery.
Standing in the same position Slade saw the man and
woman arrive at the diving-platform, saw the woman run
out on to the spring diving-board, raise her hands above
her bright green cap, and saw her lift herself gracefully as a
bird in flight. Her arching body cleaved the water with
scarcely a splash, and involuntarily Swensen applauded.
The Swede ran lightly on to the spring-board, and began a
trip dance, slapping his hands loudly against his thighs,
bending slightly, as though peering to see where the woman
swam under the water.
The next thing of which Slade was aware was a figure
breaking water quickly, a flurry of white arms, and a shrill
cry.
He could not hear the words, but there was no mistaking
the portent of that cry. Something was wrong. Fear and a
demand for help were blended in that shrill sound.
Swensen, about to spring into the lake, was stayed by
Slade's shout as the detective ran swiftly round the margin
of the lake. The Swede waited, alternately shifting his gaze
from the approaching detective to the swiftly swimming
figure of Lady Malverne.
Lady Malverne was the first to reach the diving-platform,
but Slade was within earshot as she gasped out her first
words after landing.
"There's a car in the lake, Kurt! I nearly crashed into it.
And there's a dead man inside!"


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 65
Swensen put a protecting arm round the trembling fig-
ure of the woman. It was obvious that she was badly shaken
by her discovery. Her eyes were wide and round, and her
lips twitched grotesquely.
"There, Lucie, steady yourself. Here's Inspector Slade."
The woman stared at Slade as the detective slowed his
fast pace.
"Good morning, Lady Malverne. Good morning, Mr.
Swensen. I was at the other end of the lake, and heard Lady
Malverne's cry. It was obvious that something was wrong."
They had nodded when he said good morning, and when
he finished Swensen said with a brief grin, "Out hunting
early, Inspector."
"The best time of day to find an undisturbed spoor,"
Slade returned lightly.
"Well, you've got one now. A dead man in a car," said
Swensen. "Looks like an accident."
The woman shuddered.
"It's horrible. And, Kurt, I'm cold. Would you be an
angel and get my robe?"
"Sure. Wait there. I'll be right back."
Slade watched the Swedish-American athlete's clean-
limbed figure sprinting round the lake. He ran with effort-
less ease and grace. Small wonder, thought Slade, he had
broken so many records at the Olympiad. He turned to the
woman.
"Did you recognize the car, or the man in it, Lady Mal-
verne?"
"No. It was all so sudden. I found myself gliding down
beside it, and I was startled. It was a queer sensation, being
startled like that while under water. I had a feeling of faint-
ness, as though I suddenly wanted air. . . . And then I


66 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
saw the white face staring at me through one of the win-
dows." She shuddered again. "It was horrible! . . . The
eyes . . ."
Slade waited until Swensen returned with the bath-
robes. The Swede wrapped one round the woman and slung
the other across his own shoulders.
"Well, Inspector, what do you do now?"
Slade looked at him meditatively.
"You suggested an accident, Mr. Swensen?"
His tone added the mark of interrogation.
"Naturally. There's a path across there." Swensen
pointed. "Beyond is the thick hedge running by the road.
Perhaps the car skidded on the road, lost control, broke
through the hedge—and, that path being an incline, what
could the driver do?"
Slade felt that the last words were a sudden amendment
of something the other had left unsaid. Mentally he gave
the Swede full marks for an alert brain. It was true, there
was a path where the other had pointed.
"We'll see," he said.
"But—but the man!" said Lady Malverne.
"I'm afraid a little delay will not make any difference—
now, Lady Malverne," the detective said gently.
Her face dropped into her hands.
"Do you mind if I go in, Inspector? I don't feel I want
to be here any longer."
"Certainly. But before you go, perhaps you would show
me whereabouts the car lies?"
She pointed to a spot some yards beyond the edge of the
diving-board, then turned and without another word ran
back round the lake towards the summer-house.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 67
Slade became aware that the other was looking at him
closely. . 1
"You think, Inspector, this has something to do with
. . ." The Swede paused. There was no need to say in full
what was in his mind.
"It's possible, Mr. Swensen." Slade's tone was non-
committal. "Let's look at the path. There may be tyre-
tracks."
There were, tracks that very obviously showed that a car
had run down the path from the hedge. The hedge itself
told a story too. It was broken, and snapped branches and
fallen leaves lay on the ground. Further, the tyre-marks
were sufficiently clear to prove beyond doubt that the car
had left the road beyond the hedge, burst through, and
travelled to the lake as Swensen had suggested. Only on the
concrete margin of the lake, which was about twelve or
fifteen feet wide, were there no signs of the car's passage to
its fatal resting-place.
"Apparently you were right, Mr. Swensen," said the de-
tective.
Swensen smiled. It was a boyish smile, and there was a
suspicion of a twinkle in the blue eyes.
"I hope you won't hold it against me, Inspector."
Slade remained non-committal. He could not make up
his mind about Swensen.
"Why should I?"
"Oh, I don't know. It might have occurred to you that I
had previous knowledge. Actually I didn't know a thing.
But I remembered the path as I had noticed it when run-
ning round the lake, and a possible solution came into my
mind at once. I am not usually very deductive."


68 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Swensen's manner was open and friendly. It was not,
Slade had to admit, too friendly. The Swede was normal,
and was behaving naturally.
Of course, the thing might have been an accident, but
Slade doubted it. To his mind it looked as though the car
had been deliberately driven through the hedge. Besides,
the path curved, so that the hedge was hidden from view of
anyone standing by the lake. Had the car lost control the
chances were a hundred to one against its following the
course of the path into the lake. More likely, it would have
crashed into a tree as it swept aside from the path at the
bend. And if driving of the car into the lake was deliberate,
the possible connexion with the stealing of the diamonds was
too apparent to need stressing.
Slade followed the gravelly surface of the path back to
the bend. There the tyre-tracks slewed round, and were
more deeply incised.
He pointed to them.
"You drive a car, Mr. Swensen?"
"Yes. I haven't driven in England, to be exact. But I've
got an old roadster at home in the States. Why?"
Swensen's blue eyes had clouded.
"Don't those deeper ruts suggest anything to you?"
"No, I can't say they do. How do you mean exactly?"
"Wouldn't you say the car was steadied at this point, the
brakes applied, so that the locked wheels dug deeper into
the surface of the path?"
The Swede's face lengthened.
"Sure, that's right, Inspector. But if the brakes were on,
as you say, then"
He hesitated, looking at Slade. The detective nodded.
"Then it wasn't an accident," Slade finished for him.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 69
"We'll soon see. I want a swimming-suit, and then we'll
take a look together ... if you've no objection."
"No objection at all. In fact, I'm desperately interested,
if you can understand that. I'll run and fetch you a
swimming-suit and towel right now. You can change in the
summer-house. A spare suit of my own should fit you."
Slade had not been in the summer-house four minutes
when the other returned.
"Here you are, Inspector. For that service you can give
me a cigarette, if you've got one. I was in too much of a
hurry to remember mine."
Slade gave the Swede a cigarette, and he smoked while the
Yard man got out of his clothes and into the swimming cos-
tume.
"Ready?" asked the detective.
"Sure."
Swensen threw away the cigarette and they trotted round
the lake together. Side by side they flung themselves into the
water. Legs paddling, they sank, one on each side of the
submerged car. The wheels were embedded in the soil of the
bottom.
They rose and broke surface together.
"You saw?" said Slade, shaking water from his ears.
"I did," nodded Swensen. "He's in the back. That set-
tles it ... it wasn't an accident. What do we do, get him
out?"
"Yes. You'd better come round this side. You grip the
door and hold it back. It'll need a hefty tug against the
pressure of the water. I'll get him out. That suit you?"
"Suits me fine. When you've got him out hold his shoul-
ders, Inspector. I'll grab his feet, in case he slips. We shan't
have a lot of time to waste."


70 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Without waiting for an answer the other swam round to
where Slade was treading water.
"Okay, I'm ready."
They dived. Slade saw one of the Swede's arms stretch out
and his hand grasp the handle of the door. The other hand
joined it. What seemed like minutes passed before the door
moved open. With legs kicking furiously Swensen dragged
it wide enough for Slade to manoeuvre in the opening and
grasp the dead man's shoulders. His back muscles felt as
though they were tearing apart under the strain. He pulled,
wriggled this way and that, and at last, when he thought he
would have to desist and rise for air, he felt the weight of
the dead man slacken.
He was through the opening, climbing through a green-
ish haze, his lungs singing for air.
Suddenly his mouth parted, and he gulped great gasps of
air as the sunshine made him blink.
"Gee, Inspector, that was an effort!"
He saw that he and Swensen were clinging to something
extending between them, the body of a man that lay face
downwards in the water. They paddled to the shore, and
dragged the body after them and rolled it over. The face of
an unknown man stared back at Slade.
"Know him, Mr. Swensen?"
The Swede shook his head.
"Never seen him in my life before. At least," he amended
carefully, "not to my knowledge."
Slade felt in the man's pockets, for the corpse was fully
clad in a lounge suit, socks, collar and tie, and shoes, but
found nothing. Even a tailor's tab had been cut from the
inside pocket of the jacket. There were laundry marks on
the linen, but, as Slade realized, it would take some time for


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 71
those clues to prove of any value; and by the time they had
established the man's identity—if they did—it would most
likely be too late to make use of the information.
"Somebody did a thorough job, didn't they?" Swensen
observed.
"A very thorough job," Slade agreed, pointing to a clean-
lipped hole in the side of the man's head. "And whoever it
was meant that there should be no mistake."
"Say, what about the car? Didn't think to look at its
registration number. Not that it would mean anything to
me, of course."
"I noted its number first time we went down. The car
was registered in London, but that might not be much help.
Feel like helping me with him to the summer-house, Mr.
Swensen?"
"Yes. I'll take his legs."
They carried the dead man round the lake to the summer-
house and deposited the body on a rustic seat.
"I'd like you to wait here while I get into my clothes,
Mr. Swensen."
"Carry on, Inspector."
Five minutes later Slade was dressed. He placed the cos-
tume and wet towel over the back of the rustic seat on
which the corpse lay.
"Now I'd like you to fetch Sergeant Clinton, if you
would, Mr. Swensen, and I must ask you not to mention
this business to anyone in the house. This is murder, and al-
ters the complexion of things."
"I understand. Could I trouble you for another cigarette?
I've been out here some time now."
With his bathrobe wrapped round him, and smoking a
cigarette, Kurt Swensen ran back to the house. A few min-


7% THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
utes later, by which time Slade had completed a further ex-
amination of the corpse, Clinton arrived.
"Lord, this alters things!" were the sergeant's first words.
"Considerably, Clinton. We've got to take new bearings,
and quickly, or we'll find ourselves at sea without chart or
compass."


Chapter VII
Max Reisenberg turned a sour face to Captain Furniss.
There was something not altogether wholesome in the look
on the big Jew's face.
"Did you recognize him?"
The Captain wrinkled a bony nose, puffed out his chest,
and cleared his throat noisily.
"Egad no! Utter stranger. Never seen the fellow before
in my life. It's—it's a damned mystery, begging the ladies'
pardon."
The ladies at the moment consisted of Mrs. Clammer,
tearful, dressed in grey, with a grey look on her face, and
Madge Reisenberg, fiercely silent, watchful, blowsy, and
masking her thoughts behind a smile that was in effect a
savage grimace.
"Murder's not a nice thing," Reisenberg opined.
"Nice!"
"I said not nice." Max's temper, like himself, was on
edge. His face, where Bill Pegwell had manhandled it, was
still puffed up and discoloured, and, what was worse, he was
afraid that his somewhat naive explanation—namely, that
he had collided with a bathroom door—had not gone down
smoothly with his wife. "And I meant—not nice," he added
truculently.
Captain Furniss's nose continued to wrinkle. He didn't
like Jews when he was in a good humour, and this morning
his humour was definitely bad.
"We're all suspect," he said, with a faint touch of malice.
He grinned when he saw Reisenberg's start. "When that
73


74 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
lorry arrives and the car's pulled out of the lake, and the
doctor gets the bullet, that Scotland Yard man will know
more. Well, I've knocked about the world, but I never
thought till this morning that a clear conscience was an as-
set. I don't know how you feel," he added, staring at the
Jew.
"I feel this isn't any place for me," said Reisenberg,
wantonly refusing to rise to the bait.
Mrs. Clammer broke in, her voice scared.
"Has nobody identified him, gentlemen?"
"Nobody, ma'am," said the Captain.
"Not even the servants?"
Furniss shook his head.
"It's a mystery, a complete mystery," he reaffirmed sen-
tentiously.
"What I want to know," said Mrs. Reisenberg, too clever
to meet her husband's roving eye, "is who's the prisoner in
the North Tower?"
Mrs. Clammer perked up. "Prisoner?"
The Captain's chest again assumed military proportions.
"Prisoner, ma'am?"
"I saw breakfast being taken there on a tray. The serv-
ants aren't housed there, and the guest chambers are in the
South Tower. Besides, that Yard plain-clothes sergeant has
been snooping round the North Tower all night. I couldn't
sleep," Mrs. Reisenberg explained in answer to several in-
quiring glances. "I had a headache, and I had to go to the
bathroom for water to swallow some aspirin. I saw him."
Reisenberg, who in thirty years hadn't learned what a
clever psychologist his wife was, fell into the trap she had
set and ridiculed the suggestion she had made, thereby con-
firming her suspicions that her spouse was keeping some-


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 75
thing to himself. And when Max kept something to himself
it was because—as she had found out from long experience
—he had urgent reasons for not wanting her to know.
He said, "Nonsense, Madge! A prisoner. It's absurd.
You've been reading some trashy novel and got hold of a
damned silly notion."
But Mrs. Clammer and the Captain were quite obviously
willing to consider the possibility.
Said the Captain, "There's something going on here that
we haven't been told about. That insurance detective's face
shows it. I don't like that man, don't like his looks."
"I don't envy him his job of going back to his company,"
put in Mrs. Clammer, "and reporting that the necklace has
been taken from under his nose, as it were."
The Captain turned to Reisenberg.
"Would the thief get the full hundred and fifty thousand
pounds for it, Mr. Reisenberg?"
A disturbing thought came into the Jew's mind as he
watched the Captain, but he put it on one side, as being im-
possible. Furniss, he considered, was mentally and physically
incapable of pulling the job that had been pulled, although
there were strange ducks abroad, getting their fingers on to
things.
He frowned, as though considering the question deeply.
"Whether it is worth actually a hundred and fifty thou-
sand pounds, Captain Furniss, is a question that can be an-
swered only by the purchaser." Reisenberg shrugged. "In-
trinsic value, you know. Historical association, and all that.
There are people—many people—prepared to pay for what
I call a curio value. If the thief knows his trade—or, rather,
my trade"—Reisenberg smiled thinly—"he might be able
to get six figures for the necklace, even though it is known


76 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
to be a stolen article. If the thief is just a thief"—his tone
made the distinction very clear—"he'll be lucky to get
. . . whatever he does get."
Captain Furniss thought the Jew was annoyingly vague,
and purposely so, after his last pause.
"I see," he said.
Reisenberg picked up a newspaper, and conversation
drooped like a plant denied nourishment. No one in that
room heard the soft fall of departing footsteps in the cor-
ridor outside. Sergeant Clinton trod on the balls of his feet.
He met Slade outside the room where the corpse of the
stranger taken from the lake was lying under a sheet while a
local police surgeon probed the wound for the bullet.
"How are they taking it, Clinton? Hear anything?"
asked the chief of the Yard's Department X2.
"They're upset and curious. The Clammer woman's a bit
frightened, I think, and the Captain fidgets as though he's
received orders to lead a front-line attack. Reisenberg's anx-
ious to get out, and his wife's on to something. She's drop-
ping feelers about the prisoner we've got hidden away in the
North Tower."
Slade smiled unpleasantly.
"That woman's a cross between a terrier and a tom-cat,
and a bad cross. There's one comfort. If Reisenberg was a
murderer she wouldn't be here."
"It wouldn't be easy to catch a cross between a terrier and
a tom-cat," Clinton grinned. "Reisenberg may be just out
of luck."
"He will be if his wife sees Pegwell. I want you to bring
him down, Clinton. He may know who the dead man is,
and be able to give us a lead."
"I get it. You mean this dead man may be the fellow who


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 77
was waiting to spring Pegwell after he'd lifted the stuff?"
"Yes." Slade nodded thoughtfully. "Pegwell didn't try
this lay without having a means of getting away in a hurry.
That's ten to one on a car. Well, we've found a car in the
lake, a car with a London registration number. And in the
car a man shot through the head. A deliberate stroke of
business, Clinton."
The sergeant rubbed his jaws.
"When will the car be out of the lake?"
"In about an hour."
"Well, don't you think it might be an idea to tell Pegwell
we've found his car? Say there was an accident, the car ran
through the hedge, crashed into the lake. That bit of bait
ought to set his teeth snapping for a good bite."
"Clinton, that's more than an idea. It's pure inspiration.
I think I can improve on it, however. A bit ghoulish, but
the devil's driving us hard, so our needs must be the excuse.
I'll have him down and tell him in there, with the corpse
covered up. But we won't say who the corpse is. If I'm not
wrong he'll want to find out quick enough for himself.
Either he'll be surprised or he won't."
Slade eyed his Sergeant.
Clinton's grin returned.
"I feel like a chef with a nice fat goose I'm about to put
in the oven."
"He'll go in the oven—when we've plucked him," prom-
ised Slade.
Bill had spent a restless night, and had eaten little break-
fast. Most of the meal taken to him remained on the tray
by his chair. He looked up morosely when Clinton unlocked
the door and entered.
"What d'you want now?" he asked gruffly.


78 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Bill had lost his spick-and-span appearance. Dark bristles
shaded his cheeks, and his hair had not been combed. He had
loosened his collar and tie and had not fixed them again.
"We've got something to tell you," said Clinton, "and
show you. Come on."
Bill shuffled to his feet, shooting the plain-clothes sergeant
an uneasy glance.
"I don't want to see anything, and you can tell me here."
"Not this I can't," Clinton smiled. "And you'll want to
see it all right. How's the head feeling?"
"Like the dome of St. Paul's. But get this straight. You're
not fooling me with any smart tricks. I was framed last
time I did a stretch."
"That's what they all say."
"Well, you're listening to a fellow that means it, for a
change."
"Were you framed last night?"
Clinton's tone was sceptical.
"I was unlucky. I reckon I was owed something for that
frame-up."
"As much as a hundred and fifty thousand in sparklers,
Bill? That's a pretty big round figure. You must think
you're worth something to somebody."
"Cut out the sarcasm," growled Bill. "I've still got a debt
to settle for that crack on the bean, so you'd better keep
Reisenberg out of my reach or you may have a murder on
your hands."
Clinton gave the other a straight look.
"Come on," he said briskly, "and stop bleating."
The local police-surgeon and the inspector of the Sussex
County Constabulary who had accompanied him to Steyn-
ing Towers in answer to Slade's 'phone call, took a stroll in


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 79
the grounds while the chief of Department X2 waited alone
in the room with the sheeted corpse for Bill's arrival.
The bullet had been recovered from the bone of the dead
man's skull, in which it had become embedded. It was badly
flattened, but Slade was certain it was fired from a thirty-
eight automatic. It might be a thirty-two, it was difficult
to say, but Slade thought not.
The door opened and Clinton came in with Pegwell. The
cracksman saw the outline of a human form under the white
sheet, and nodded.
"What's the idea? Playing bogey-man with me?"
There was a broad streak of contempt in his tone. Slade
watched him closely. He saw that Bill was worried about
something, but that he was desperately ready to hide his
worry under a cloak of assumed ease.
"Bill," said Slade, "we've got your car."
The other's eyes dilated. Faint dark lines appeared at the
sides of his mouth, which was suddenly pulled down at the
corners, as though by hidden wires. Slade could see that the
news had hit him hard, but he was wary, not ready to be
rushed into a tricked admission.
"Who told you it was mine, the chauffeur, I suppose?"
The same desperate lightness was in his voice, but it was
near to cracking. The eyes wandered to the figure of the
corpse, then sped to another part of the room. Slowly white
spots gleamed along the ridges of the straining knuckles of
the young man's hands. The hands relaxed and the white
spots faded.
"Unfortunately no, Bill. There was an accident. The
chauffeur is dead."
This time Bill was not proof against the shock of the
detective's words. Immediately into his mind flooded pic-


8o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
tures of Tessa's young body broken in a car smash, her brave
eyes glazed in death, and something rose within him and
tore at the muscles of his throat, so that he could not speak.
Sweat dewed his forehead, started from the pores over his
shoulders, and he felt it trickling against his spine. His
mouth worked, but no words came. He could think of noth-
ing to say, and black seconds of time swept over him. He felt
numbed.
Inside him a voice whispered, "No, it isn't true. It can't
be. Tessa's alive." He did not know that voice was his own
mental reaction to a terrible, nerve-shattering interpretation
of the detective's cunning words. But it gave him hope.
Something stirred and fought in his mind. "Not Tessa, no,
not Tessa."
"An accident."
He barely recognized his own voice, and when he knew
what he had said he could have laughed. After that wild
emotional storm all he had said was, "An accident." Noth-
ing about Tessa, nothing about . . .
"The car crashed through the hedge, Bill, swept on to a
path in the park, and I suppose in the darkness the driver
failed to regain control."
It sounded as though it might be true. That dark fear
returned to his mind, hung like a black curtain over his
thoughts, veiling what he wanted to think.
"And . . . what happened?"
His voice was pitched higher. He knew now. He told
himself he must keep his voice lower. He mustn't give him-
self away—Tessa away.
"The car plunged into the lake, Bill. The water was pretty
deep at that end, about twenty feet, I think. There was no
escape."


82 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Slade said, "I warn you, Bill, he's not a particularly nice
sight."
Something clicked in Bill's mind, clicked and whirred
like a motor starting up. His hand drew back slowly. He
did not touch the sheet. He looked round, met Slade's puz-
zled gaze, and suddenly his eyes narrowed.
He knew now. It was a trick.
The fools!
But he must be careful. They had almost got him. He
must be careful. Everything depended on his keeping his
nerve. They'd got nothing on him. Not a thing. Unlawful
entry with intent. . . . That didn't mean a damn' thing.
No, he could still hold his own.
The fools!
Slade frowned. The sudden change in Bill was perplexing.
He had been disturbed, worried, and he had been about to
pull aside the sheet when Slade spoke. The words stopped
him. He hadn't flinched at the thought of not seeing a nice
sight. It wasn't that. Slade, whose gaze had not left Bill's
face, had seen the dawn of fresh intelligence in the narrow-
ing eyes. His words had had a definite meaning for the other,
and that meaning was a mystery to the Yard man. He felt
annoyed that at the last minute his subterfuge had failed.
Or would it still work?
"Well, don't be shy," he said, pulling aside the sheet,
revealing the face and chest of the dead man. "Recognize
him, Bill? That's your partner, isn't it? That's the man who
drove you down here?"
For moments there was silence. Bill seemed to the others
to sway uncertainly on his feet, as though his strength was
leaving him.
Suddenly the room trembled in the gale of a gushing roar


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 83
of laughter. The sound had burst from Bill's lips. His head
was thrown back, and he was pouring laughter into the
room, recklessly, swamping feelings and drowning thought.
"Hey!"
Clinton sprang forward and grabbed the young man's
arm. He shook him. The effect was to send the sound trilling
in a wild arpeggio.
"Stop it! D'you hear? You're crazy!"
The sound stopped.
After its frantic release the silence was almost painful.
Slade winced. He had been witness to something he could
not understand, could not fathom, although in his mind was
revolving an idea. There had been a cause for that laughter.
A cause sufficiently strong to send Bill Pegwell off at half-
cock.
And the only clue he had was the words he had spoken:
"I warn you, Bill, he's not a particularly nice sight." . . .
Not a particularly nice sight. In those words lay the cause
of the laughter. Bill had expected to recognize the figure
under the sheet, but those words had prevented recognition.
Clinton was saying, "Well, do you know him? Speak,
man. He's been murdered, shot through the head. Under-
stand that. Murdered. If he's your partner you'll want to do
something about it, won't you?"
Clinton was impatient, and there was deep-seated annoy-
ance in his tone.
Bill's eyes dropped to the sergeant's face. He did not look
again at the corpse.
"I've never seen him before in my life," he said soberly,
"and you didn't find a gun on me."


Chapter VIII
Two hours later three men sat in the summer-house in the
grounds of Steyning Towers, and the face of each wore a
frown of perplexity. Inspector Frenton, of the local force,
felt that Fate had dealt harshly with him that Sunday morn-
ing. He had planned to take his wife and two children to
see his sister at Eastbourne, and had looked forward to the
trip for days. Now he was listening to a Yard man telling
him he would have to be responsible for the custody of an
arrested burglar. The trip to Eastbourne had been rudely
wiped off the slate, and that wouldn't improve his wife's
temper. She had bought a new dress, because she thought the
occasion warranted it, and, anyway, she always felt that her
sister-in-law expected to see her in a new dress whenever
they met. The kids would be gloomy too. Young Harry had
made up his mind to go to Beachy Head.
Unhappily Inspector Frenton pulled his thoughts back
to the present and the problem before them. He accepted a
pouchful of tobacco from Slade, and felt for his matches.
"To be perfectly candid, Slade," he said, tamping the ash
in the bowl of his pipe, "I don't see where my holding Peg-
well is going to get us. This is your pigeon, and Doctor
Lumsden's evidence doesn't make it any less so."
"Lumsden said, so far as he could decide at the first ex-
amination, the unknown was shot about five o'clock yester-
day afternoon. Before I got here, Frenton. Clinton and I
arrived about half-past. The time puts it in your province;
it's a local case."
"It's a damned nuisance." Frenton cast round wildly and
84


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 85
plucked at a distant bloom of hope. "We don't know where
he was shot. That's a London car. He might have been shot
in London."
"Sorry, Frenton, you're not giving me the slip that
easy," Slade grinned. "London registration plates. It might
have changed hands in Sussex last week. It isn't a new car.
But the point is this, I want to isolate the case, not get it
tangled up with a lot of insurance issues in London. See
what I'm driving at?"
"Vaguely. I've got a better idea of a lot of routine stuff
you're pushing on to my shoulders. I'm not grumbling about
that. Don't mistake me. But if I can shift that headache on
to some one else I'm going to. Nobody's going to get any
thanks for this business. The necklace in the blue, a man
murdered, and God knows what it all means and where
the solution lies—if there is one."
"You don't like the way the case is shaping?"
"I don't like anything about it. I'm a country policeman,
Slade, and it's years since I thought of catching murderers
redhanded. That was all knocked out of me by the time I
got my sergeant's stripes. I've grown up. I concern myself
with trespassing gipsies, motorists who like to knock it
back, neighbours with complaints, and suchlike. That's my
job. I'm not a London detective. Big jewel robberies and
slick shootings are not my meat. I don't know how to carve
those joints. See what I mean? I'm not happy holding the
dirty end of the sort of stick you've picked up down here."
Slade nodded. He liked the local inspector for his forth-
right views and lack of personal vanity. The man knew him-
self to be a uniformed policeman and not a trained detective,
and wanted to keep to his own work. That showed his wis-
dom.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 87
Clinton sucked his teeth, while the local man screwed
his face into an expression suggesting laborious mental
work.
"Don't get it," he said at last, shaking his head.
"He," repeated Slade. "He expected me to say 'she.' I had
the sex wrong. That was PegwelPs surprise. Get it? He had
an accomplice, but she was a woman. There's no two an-
swers to the riddle. A woman, and I've an idea who she is."
Clinton nodded.
"His wife."
"Right, Clinton. Bill Pegwell flared up when he saw
Reisenberg. His wife works in the Jew's office. Well, I think
we can assume that Reisenberg has tried to make himself a
nuisance."
"He wouldn't have to try hard, from what I've seen of
him," grunted Frenton.
"Pegwell can't get it out of his mind. He's got a bee in his
bonnet about being framed the last time he was sent in for
a stretch, so it looks as though he'd set himself this time to
pull something big and steer clear of the rocks for a while."
"He'd got his plans set nicely," Clinton affirmed. "How
he got in that room the way he did, and had the safe open,
beats me."
"You forget, Clinton, Steyning Towers is a show-place
of sorts. In any book on the county you'll find mention of it
and a full description."
"That's right," said Frenton. "Some of the books on these
parts have maps of the Towers. It's asking for trouble."
"This time there's been an answer, and I think you can
depend on it that Pegwell got his information about the
architecture of the place from some topographical work or


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 89
he sees me in the same room with him. He's afraid of two
things: my getting something on him, and his wife discover-
ing from Bill Pegwell something that I have no doubt Mrs.
Pegwell has told her husband."
Frenton's broad face showed signs of the local man's men-
tal struggle to keep track of just where Slade was leading
him.
"So we can discount Mrs. Pegwell getting anything from
Reisenberg—information about this trip to Sussex, I mean
—because he trusts her. That's right out. It leaves us with
the other alternative. She came by that information with-
out Reisenberg knowing."
"Does this really help us?" queried Frenton. "It's getting
a bit beyond me, I'll admit."
Slade smiled.
"I've got to take you on a roundabout trip to make things
perfectly clear. You said you wanted them explained."
"That's right, I do. But this sort of thing's giving me a
headache. It's worse than one of the missus's Sunday puzzles
in the paper."
"No," Clinton disagreed, with a broad grin, "not as bad
as that. They're terrible. My wife's afflicted with the same
complaint, and I'm expected to do the work. Not that we've
won anything yet."
"Like us, still trying," said Frenton, and, turning to Slade,
he added, "Righto, let's see where this leads us. Though I'm
not promising I'll remember it."
"You needn't," grinned the Yard man. "Fact is, I'm not
sorry for the chance to get it all untangled myself. As I
was saying, it's pretty clear that Pegwell's wife got her in-
formation about the party here without Reisenberg know-
ing—or thought she did."


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 91
reckoned it, Frenton. Another case of the double-bluff. Oh,
no, Max Reisenberg is more than clever enough to think out
a telling move like that. But all this brings us to Max Reisen-
berg in one pan of the scales, and the rest in the other pan.
Furniss, Mrs. Clammer, and Lady Malverne; I think we can
rule them out meantime. When I questioned them they gave
each other a rough sort of alibi for the time Bill was laid
cold. Butterick says he was watching Swensen; he evidently
doesn't trust foreigners of any kind. Mrs. Reisenberg, I
think, we can place as an appendage of her husband, for the
purpose of this particular tally. So we've got to take our
pick of the bunch, and Reisenberg stands out by a mile."
Clinton had something to offer for consideration.
"What about if Reisenberg and Bill Pegwell are in this
together?"
Slade flashed his sergeant a keen glance.
"Mean the knocking out was a put-up job?"
"Something like that, to put us wide off the real track."
Slade thought it over. The theory had been considered
before.
"It might be," muttered Frenton.
"No, I don't think so," said Slade. "Far too risky. Sup-
pose we hadn't turned up when we did. That was luck,
remember. Our going into that room was not part of the
preconceived plan. We happened on Bill lying on the floor
by the open safe. There's no other way of looking at that.
There was no purpose to serve in arranging a complicated
set-up like that unless they were sure Bill would be found.
Besides, it would have been safer if he had got away with
the necklace. But would Reisenberg have trusted him? Not
Maxie—oh, no! Again, Bill's accusing Reisenberg of beat-
ing him over the head and stealing the necklace was spon-


92 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
taneous. It wasn't thought out. No, Clinton, I don't think
we need puzzle about that possibility for long."
"Put that way, I agree," said Clinton. "But as some one's
in this thing up to the neck there must be some real clue.
What about 'phone calls? There was that one from Paris,
wasn't there?"
"That doesn't help us. That was Lady Malverne's half-
brother, having another row about her selling the diamonds.
He couldn't do much from Paris."
"Unless he spoke to some one else," said Frenton.
"He didn't." Slade killed the idea with cruel sharpness.
"He spoke to Brooks, who brought his mistress, and she
hung up when the brotherly advice was finished. We can't
suspect her. She is rich, has plenty of jewels. That wouldn't
make sense. On the other hand, there is Swensen. He may be
genuinely in love with her. My own feeling, from what I've
seen, is that he is, and doesn't care a broken button for her
money. But there is the possibility that he might have come
with designs on snatching a fortune."
"But you say Butterick was watching him when the dia-
monds were taken." Frenton gave proof that he was fol-
lowing what Slade said. "That doesn't square."
"Butterick's hazy about the actual time. They were all on
the move, you know. It was after dinner, and they hadn't
properly settled down. I'll be candid. At the moment Reis-
enberg's standing out away in front of the others as sus-
pect number one. Second, I can't help placing Swensen.
There's Furniss and the Clammer woman, but they are
members of the family. Anyway, I can't see the Captain
knocking anyone out without having some one standing by
to take the weapon when he'd done the job. He's that sort,


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 93
pretty futile. Mrs. Clammer I suspect, is a good deal more
shrewd than people probably give her credit for being. But
she couldn't tackle a strong young animal like Bill Pegwell,
nerved up for a ticklish job."
Slade paused, and relit his pipe.
"Where do you proceed from there?" asked Frenton.
The local man's interest was captured. Slade smiled as he
added, "Working it out this way, it gets sort of fascinating.
You know, a bit different from taking down names and ad-
dresses and looking after dog-licences."
"There's a lot of routine work in this game, Frenton."
"So the mystery-story writers tell us. But you can't com-
pare the two routines—the ordinary uniformed man's and
the plain-clothes man's. Look at this case, for instance."
"Yes, you were asking where we proceed now. I think,
Frenton, now you've agreed to hold things down locally, I'll
try something with Mrs. Pegwell. She's the link between
her husband and Reisenberg."
"Always supposing she was his accomplice on this job,"
put in Clinton.
Slade glanced knowingly at his sergeant, but Clinton did
not flinch, although he knew what was in his chief's mind.
Slade occasionally referred to Clinton as his mental brake.
The sergeant was a stickler for facts, and Slade knew that
when a theory of his passed Clinton's factual scrutiny it
was basically sound.
"True, Clinton; but the implications in this case would
justify her being gathered into the fold of witnesses even
if she hadn't been here. She is, what I said, a link. I'm hop-
ing she'll prove the weakest in the chain. If she weakens and
breaks there's hope."


94 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Of course, she might not have anything to tell you,"
said Frenton, without realizing just how damping his
words really were.
"True enough. If she can tell us nothing we've got to
start afresh. But if she can I think she'll lead us back to
Reisenberg. One thing I'm pretty certain of, the diamonds
aren't here, unless they're hidden for a considerable time,
to be gathered up later."
"You don't think she—PegwelPs wife's got them?"
Clinton offered the suggestion with the air of a man
throwing an idle pebble into a pool.
"No. Pegwell would have taken them out of the house
himself—yes, I'm pretty certain about that. But, anyway,
I'll have a much stronger pull with Mrs. Pegwell when her
husband's in a cell down here, Frenton. I may have to bring
her down to see him. I should say she's the kind to drive a
bargain, and she'll probably lie to cover up her husband's
tracks."
"It'll be all right with me, whatever you arrange," said
Frenton handsomely, all thought of the trip to Eastbourne
gone from his mind.
"Fine," nodded Slade. "Well, I won't hold up things any
longer here. And if I'm going to save you a lot of red-tape
performance, Frenton, I'll have to get on to the Yard at
once. Before I let the others depart I want a word with Mrs.
Clammer, just to be sure she hasn't been pulling any wool
over my eyes, and I think another word with Maxie is very
obviously on the slate."
The three men returned thoughtfully to the house.


Chapter IX
While the local men were taking finger-prints and photo-
graphing the dead man, and while Max Reisenberg superin-
tended the packing of their things, Slade sought Mrs. Clam-
mer. The Yard man had conceived an appreciative regard for
the little woman's intellect from the few times he had
spoken with her. He adjudged, furthermore, that she was
one of those rare women, one who could keep a secret.
He found her on the veranda of the library, a roll of
grey knitting on her lap, her needles clicking, her eyes, as
grey as the ball of wool at her feet, watching him as he
approached.
"You haven't come to tell me you've found the diamonds,
Inspector," she greeted him.
"No, I haven't. Would you mind if I sit down, Mrs. Clam-
mer? I'd like to ask you one or two things—general things."
"I see." The grey eyes still watched him. The needles kept
up their steady work, fast but unhurried. "Yes, pull up
another deck-chair." A pause as the chair was opened and
Slade sat down. "Smoke if you want to. All men are the
same. They can get to the point more quickly if they're
smoking. That is, if they're the sort that don't run out of
matches," she added archly.
Slade smiled. As he filled his pipe he wondered what sort
of man Mr. Clammer had been. Interesting, or his wife
would not have married him. At least, that's how he visu-
alized the marriage.
"And you're not interested in knitting, of course," she
95


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 97
"If you mean I must always keep my feet on the ground
—then yes, it is."
"I didn't mean that, but your answer is apt. Well, In-
spector, I'll make things easier for you by being very blunt."
"Thank you, Mrs. Clammer. I was hoping you would
understand."
"Captain Furniss is an old fuss-pot. He foams at the
mouth and makes terrible noises in his bath. But he isn't a
thief, and for all his tall tales about what he did and didn't
do in India the sight of blood almost sends him into hysterics.
A fuss-pot, did I say? He's an old woman—in a purely mas-
culine sense, of course."
"You are delightfully explicit, Mrs. Clammer."
"I am nothing of the sort, Inspector. I am a scandal-
monger, and that's what you were betting on when you
came to sound me."
The grey eyes were twinkling again.
"Really, Mrs. Clammer"
"Oh, don't bother to protest. It would spoil the effect—
for me. But to get back to Furniss. He was one of Julius's
poor cousins, and he's one of the many—there are quite a
lot, believe it or not—who harbour the notion that Julius's
end wasn't entirely accidental. You remember the story of
his 'plane crash?"
"Yes, distinctly. The inquiry proved nothing."
"How could it, when everything was burned to a cinder?
That's the one really troublesome bee in Jim Furniss's bon-
net. Julius's crash. He was expecting something from Julius.
He never had reason to expect it, but that's Jim Furniss.
There's quite a bit of Micawber in him. When the will was
read he got nothing, as he might have expected. That made
the bee develop a sting. Lucie more or less took compassion


98 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
on him, but compassion's wasted on Jim. That Indian sun,
besides drying up what few wits he had, warped his body
and his soul. Anyway, so much for him, Inspector. He hasn't
got the diamonds."
She paused.
"Nor have I," she added, keeping her eyes lowered.
"Heaven knows I could do with a hundred and fifty thou-
sand pounds, nobody more so! A husband who thought he
was a Monte Carlo bank-breaker left me just beyond the
hightide mark. The only bank my lovable idiot of an Ar-
thur broke was mine. Actually, I'm no real relation to Lucie
Malverne. Her father married twice, as you know, Inspec-
tor. She has a half-brother, Barry. I am Barry's mother's
eldest sister, though I'm not taking the blame for that. How-
ever we must keep to the diamonds. As I told you I haven't
got them, but I'll continue to be frank with you; had I had
a chance to put my hands on them and no one been any the
wiser I'm not sure I shouldn't have taken it. Lucie's dis-
gustingly rich. She's a sweet child, but when I think of all
the loot her husband rooked from his fellow-countrymen it
makes me feel positively socialistic. Not that I should be a
socialist long if I had a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
Don't get a wrong idea of my political stability, Inspector.
I'm like most other people."
For a space the only sound was the clicking of her needles.
"How do brother and sister hit it off, Mrs. Clammer?"
"Half-brother and half-sister," she amended. "It makes
a big difference. Barry has a grudge against Lucie. He
thought that when she married Julius she ought to have seen
that something was done for him. Instead, Lucie dried up
emotionally. The marriage was a mistake of course—at least,
until Julius's 'plane fell down in flames." Her gaze met


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 99
Slack's squarely, and did not flinch. "Lucie wouldn't ask any
favours of him, least of all for her own relatives—or near-
relatives, as I know. And now Barry has a bee in his bonnet."
Slade waited. If Mrs. Clammer expected him to put a
question she was disappointed.
"He dislikes Kurt Swensen, intensely. There's been a
quarrel about that good-looking Swede already. Or should I
call him an American? He's naturalized, I understand. Any-
way, I suppose an American by any other name will recog-
nize himself."
"And what is the reason for Lady Malverne's half-
brother's dislike of Mr. Swensen?"
"Baldly—Barry's jealous. He gets that from his mother.
She was a cat who, unfortunately for a lot of people, purred
like a kitten. And I was her sister. Barry's jealous of Lucie."
"But he's her half-brother," Slade pointed out. "The
same blood"
"Oh, I don't mean in that way. It's her wealth he's jealous
of. He was peeved about it before Julius's accident; now he's
crazy. Perhaps crazy isn't the right word, after all. Cer-
tainly, though, he is intensely jealous of Lucie's wealth, and
he hates and loathes her determination to sell Julius's jewel
collections."
"There is a reason for that, you think?"
"There is, although what I think may not be the right
reason."
"It will be interesting, I am sure of that."
"Perhaps. My feeling is that Barry's jealousy is based upon
his dislike—amounting almost to hatred—of Swensen. He's
got the impression that Swensen, by sweeping Lucie off her
feet, has cheated him out of participation in what Julius left.
Though why the young fool should imagine he had any


roo THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
right to participate is more than I can say. Except that my
sister Jane was his mother."
Slade pondered this. Mrs. Clammer's forthright words
had cleared in his mind the somewhat hazy picture he had
received of the Malverne family as it was now constituted.
"When was Lady Malverne's half-brother last in this
country, Mrs. Clammer?"
"Last week. He went back to Paris on Tuesday, I think
it was."
"He lives in Paris quite a lot."
"Practically all the time when he's in funds, though if
you knew much about him you'd find that statement some-
what contradictory. He lives there because he says it fosters
his creative instinct, though what he means by that I'm not
sure."
"Is he an artist or a writer?"
"He's nothing but a lazy good-for-nothing. He's got a
brain, which was a gift from his father, who was killed at
the explosion that occurred at his mine in Mexico, but
Barry'll never use it. There's too much of his mother in him.
You may think I'm hard and scathing regarding my own
sister. Perhaps I am. I have more than reason to be."
Slade saw the woman's face square rigidly. The fine lines
at the side of her nose disappeared as the skin of her face
stretched taut, mask-like.
"Was the quarrel between your nephew and Lady Mal-
verne serious?"
"She showed him out of the Town flat."
"As bad as that?"
"Worse. She told Kurt Swensen to throw him out, which
he did. Barry's nursing a pride that must be stinging like
the devil."


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 101
"Then isn't it surprising that he rang up his half-sister
yesterday?"
"Surprising, yes. But Barry is always surprising. That's
what makes him Barry."
"Do you think he rang up solely to ask her not to sell
the necklace?"
This time Slade received no immediate reply to his ques-
tion. The woman looked up inquiringly.
"Just where are you leading me, Inspector?" she de-
manded. "Up which garden path? Are you trying to get
me to draw a question-mark after Barry's name?"
"I was wondering, that is all."
"Won't do you any good. Barry rang up all right, and
he gave his sister a terrific shouting on the 'phone. Must
have made the Channel cable blister. But every word was
utterly in character. Anyway, how could Barry, in Paris
when that call came through, be here to lift that necklace?
I know that's what you're turning over in the back of your
mind, Inspector. But even you can't take a man from a
Paris address and put him in the middle of Sussex in just
over half an hour."
She was right, of course, and Slade put the fantastic idea
that had crossed his mind outside his consideration.
"Perfectly true, I can't. You have his Paris address, of
course."
"Naturally. 34 bis Rue de Savarin."
Slade rose.
"Thank you, Mrs. Clammer, you've been most helpful."
Again that arched expression changed the look in her
eyes.
"I haven't been anything of the sort, Inspector. I've told
you a lot of tittle-tattle, and I've given you the impression


102 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
that I'm a sour old grouch who had no reason to love her
sister Jane. But"—the grey eyes smiled—"I'm thankful that
you wasted your time. It isn't every one who'll give me long
of their company."
There were tears, bright as early morning dew, in the
grey eyes. Slade turned away before they fell, aware that
Mrs. Clammer had a problem of her own to solve, perhaps,
of its kind, more difficult than his.
He rang up the exchange, and got them to check the call
that had come from Paris on the previous evening. The
records showed that the Paris call was entered as incoming
from the Paris number Abelard 7810. He noted the number
and hung up. As he passed into the lounge he ran into Max
Reisenberg.
"Excuse me Mr. Reisenberg, I wanted to see you before
you left."
"Yes, Inspector, what is it?"
"You'll be at your office to-morrow?"
"Yes."
"Good. I rather think I shall drop in to see you. What
times does Mrs. Pegwell go to lunch?"
"Between one o'clock and two."
"All right, then. Expect me about five past two."
The Jew's eyes glinted like specks of polished obsidian as
he moved away.


Chapter X
Lucie Malverne looked up from polishing her finger nails
at sound of a tap on her door. She rose as Kurt Swensen
entered.
"What is it, Kurt?"
She could see the brooding trouble in his face.
He shrugged his wide shoulders and spread his arms in a
Continental gesture he sometimes adopted. But the cloud
did not lift from his face.
"They have gone, all except the two men from Scotland
Yard, Lucie."
"Well, I'm glad of that, anyway. This has been a week-
end of surprises. I lose a diamond necklace, and find a corpse
in my lake." She did not shudder this time at mention of
her discovery. It was as though she had steeled herself inside,
hardened her emotions; her words rang with a metallic
sound, causing the man to lift his glance. "What about that
little man Butterick, has he gone, Kurt?"
"Yes, moaning about his lost job. He said he would get
in touch with you to-morrow, and then the company's so-
licitor will write you. Furniss has gone too. Didn't take
much to send him packing."
"Judith?"
"No, I think the Old Guard remains, and of course my-
self"
"Kurt, what is wrong?"
"Wrong, what should be wrong, my dear?"
"That's what I want to know. Nothing, of course, should
103


io6 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
damn what people thought about me, I did trouble about
what was said concerning you. You can see, then, Lucie, we
both held off, thinking of the other. I'm being very truth-
ful, because now we must face the truth."
"But, Kurt, I'm ready to marry you now, this minute."
"Of course, because you see further danger for me."
"Don't, Kurt!"
"I must, darling. The police are suspicious of me. Every
one will think as they do. I could have done it. Then there
is the mystery of the car and the body in it. I didn't help
things with my idea of how the car got into the lake. That
Inspector Slade is no fool, but he won't overlook what to
him must have seemed my 'glibness.'"
"Kurt, you mustn't think like this."
"I must, for both our sakes, Lucie. Probably the only per-
son in this house, apart from yourself, who doesn't think I
did it is Judith Clammer, but she wouldn't say so, you know
that. But I didn't. I know nothing about the robbery or the
murder"
"Of course you don't. That's obvious to the police. No
weapon has been found."
"They will argue that I could have concealed it. As they
will argue I could have concealed the diamonds. You see?
No, darling, I can't remain and let the eyes of the world be
focused on you because I am standing with you, suspected."
"Kurt, this is nonsense, I won't allow it. If you're think-
ing of leaving"
"I have gone a stage beyond thinking, Lucie darling. I
have packed."
"You have . . . packed!"
The news bewildered her, like a glancing blow that had
numbed her nerve centres.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 107
"Yes, and I am leaving Steyning Towers to-day. I shall
stop in London. I'm not turning tail altogether. If the
police want me they can get me." His tone was grim, the
hard light had returned to his eyes. "But, for the last time,
Lucie, I love you too much to remain. You must see my
argument. It's the only one possible, in the circumstances.
We've been together, in each other's company, a long while
now, some months—more than long enough to antagonize
your half-brother and to set Furniss against me"
"They don't count."
"They do—very much."
"Of course, if you prefer . . ."
She stopped as he smiled.
"Don't go into a pouting act for my benefit, Lucie, it's
not in your line. You know what I prefer, and I know
what you prefer, but because we're living in this twentieth-
century civilization we can't enjoy our preferences. We've
got to remember there is such a thing as public opinion,
which is always the opinion of a very few shouted loud
enough for every one to hear. I don't wish to be rude about
your family, darling, but Barry and Furniss are excellent
shouters of the kind I'm talking about."
She sat down, limp, realizing that he was adopting the
only possible way out. But whither did their diverging
paths lead? She shuddered as she tried to glimpse the dark-
ness ahead of them.
"I'm afraid, Kurt."
He put his arms round her shoulders, lifted her face, and
gently kissed her red lips.
"My little Lucie mustn't be afraid," he whispered. "Time,
they say in story-books, is a great healer. Well, we won't
give it anything to heal. We'll pay no fat fees to Dr. Time,


io8 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
because we don't like his bedside manner, eh? We'll keep
our love and our hearts whole, my darling, and when"—he
straightened, and his voice changed—"those diamonds have
been recovered and the newspapers have finished plastering
the story across the country—then, oh, my sweet"
She stayed further words with her eager Hps.
At last, "You think I should stay here, Kurt?"
"You will be out of the centre of the storm," he said.
"This business is not going to be a nine days' wonder. Mur-
der and a big jewel robbery, a car in a lake, found by the
mistress of Steyning Towers when swimming with the
blonde Olympic whirlwind, as they have been kind enough
to dub me, and the fact that Lady Malverne would transact
the business in Sussex, and not in London—all that, my
dear, will tie up very neatly with the not-yet-dead rumours
of your husband's death. You see? It won't be pretty, will
it? You won't want it dinning in your ears, morning, noon,
and night? You don't wish to be driven frantic, to hate the
sight of me, the thought that I"
His voice had been rising; now it trembled.
"Kurt!"
She had twisted round, sprung up, and flung her arms
round him. His breath was hot against her neck, and as she
stroked his fair hair she thought how silky it was.
"I'm sorry, Lucie. I guess it's wearing me down. You
see, I've thought and thought about it until my brain aches,
and my ideas tread upon each other. I can't"
"Then don't try, Kurt, my dear."
Her voice soothed as the gentle touch of her fingers
soothed.
"I don't want to make things more difficult for you, my
darling," she murmured, "but sometimes I wonder if you


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 109
know—if you even could know—how very much I love
you. You've given hope of a real life, my darling, you've
brought colour and brightness into a life that was drab and
oh, so very dull. You've"
There she paused as a heavy hand struck the door.
Her body grew taut, as though she held her breath and
dare not release it. The man held by her arms stirred. She
wanted to cry to the knocking one to go away, that this
moment of self-revelation was hers and she would not be
denied, but when again the heavy hand fell she knew the
moment had passed, was dead.
Slade stood in the doorway when she opened the door.
"Well, Inspector?"
Her eyes were hostile.
"I believe Mr. Swensen is with you, Lady Malverne. I am
very sorry, but I must ask him to come with me at once.
There has been an important development."
Her fury died, and new-risen fear gripped her with cold
fingers. At its touch she flinched, a woman afraid, des-
perately afraid of something she could not understand, but
of something expressed in the detective's eyes.
Swensen was beside her, talking in a low voice.
"You wanted me, Inspector. "Well, what is it?"
"Please come with me, Mr. Swensen."
Slade turned and the woman said quickly, catching her
breath, "111 come too, Inspector."
"I'd rather you didn't, Lady Malverne," said Slade, but
he looked meaningly at the Swede, who nodded.
Slade walked to the end of the corridor, and presently
was joined by Swensen, who came alone.
"You said an important development, Inspector?"
"I did, Mr. Swensen."


no THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
They walked to the South Tower, and Slade led Swensen
up stairs that were dark and eerie, even with the sunlight
glinting through the old-time arrow-slits. Swensen trod
with hardly any sound, and his step was springy.
Slade paused where the stairs turned. Sergeant Clinton
was bent over something lying on a stone platform.
"Good God!" muttered the Swede, "not—not another I"
"Another murder—yes," nodded Slade.
Clinton stood back, and a bright beam leaped from the
torch in his hand, to focus on the battered head of one of
the maids.
Swensen winced.
"This is—horrible!" His voice sounded parched, about to
crack.
"And do you recognize this, Mr. Swensen?"
Slade was stooping, pointing to an object lying alongside
the body. Swensen saw that it was an Indian club. Slade
picked it up carefully, holding it in his handkerchief.
"Do you?" he repeated.
Then Swensen's voice broke.
"It's mine!"
He was staring with wide eyes at the blood and hair ad-
hering to the heavy teakwood bulb of the club.


Chapter XI
Do you mind if I have a drink, Inspector? I feel I need one."
Slade nodded.
"All right. Let's go into the lounge. Clinton," he said,
turning to his assistant, "you know what to do. Let me
know when you're finished."
The Yard inspector and the Swede went down to the
lounge, and Brooks, his normally impassive face enlivened
with an excitement he could not subdue, brought whisky,
glasses, and a siphon.
"I'll help myself," said Swensen.
He poured himself a liberal glass of whisky, drank it
quickly, and mopped his mouth with his handkerchief. He
lit a cigarette, and Slade waited for him to speak. He spoke
when he had calmed himself sufficiently to take long, steady
pulls at the cigarette.
"Well, Inspector, what do you want me to say?"
Slade had filled his pipe and lit it. From the direction of
his gaze just then he was apparently absorbed in the tiny
check design of the other's flannel trousers.
"I think you had better tell me something I can accept—
on the evidence."
There was no mistaking the Yard man's meaning. The
other flushed.
"Do you mean to say you think I"
He gulped.
"I mean to say very little, Mr. Swensen. I'm going to ask
the questions."
in


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 113
"Not yet, we haven't the key."
"True, I have the key in my pocket." He produced it.
"But I never lock the door." He met Slade's mildly inquir-
ing gaze. "I've never had occasion to lock it."
"No?"
"What do you mean—no?"
"It's locked now."
"Locked? But I don't understand. I didn't lock it, I've
never locked it. There must be some mistake."
"That we can soon prove. Let's go up there."
They went to Swensen's room, and the Swede stretched
forth his hand to open the door, but, as Slade had said, it
was locked.
"Strange," muttered Swensen, placing the key in the lock
and opening the door.
"I thought it was merely a precaution," said Slade.
Swensen swung round and faced him, his fists knotted.
The Yard man's face was calm, his gaze steady. He puffed
his pipe and little blue streams of smoke issued from the
corners of his mouth.
"Yes, Mr. Swensen?" he inquired.
The Swede's hands unfolded, the anger passed from his
face, and he grinned wryly.
"Nothing. I guess you've got me on the end of a pin, and
I can't exactly blame you if you make me wriggle."
Slade nodded slowly.
"I'm sorry. I only hope for your sake you wriggle clev-
erly, Mr. Swensen. Things look pretty conclusive."
Again that baffled, defeated look swept the Swede's face,
but it did not linger. He grinned at Slade, chin up, and the
detective admired him for his pluck. He might be a callous,


114 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
scheming murderer, he might not. But he had most def-
initely qualities as a man that Slade could appreciate. There
was nothing of the rodent about Kurt Swensen.
"Well, jab the pin, Inspector. I'm ready to wriggle, and
—I'm in condition."
It was a mild flinging back of the gauge Slade had cast
down.
"Very well," said the Yard man, "did you use your clubs
this morning?"
"Yes, for about a quarter of an hour, before I went down
to the lake."
"And they were all there, wherever you keep them?"
"Yes. They fit a small rack on one side of a travelling-
trunk. I should have noticed had one been missing. I
couldn't help noticing, as a matter of fact."
"I see. You just took out a pair, swung them, and put
them back?"
"That's right."
"Lock the trunk?"
"No, no reason to."
"And you say you didn't lock this door?"
"No, for the same reason—or, rather, lack of one."
"And when did you last leave this room?"
"Shortly after breakfast. I came up for some cigarettes,
sat down by the window, thinking about things, you know,
and then went downstairs. I've hung about all morning un-
til the others had gone, then I went to see Lady Malverne.
You found me with her. That's all I've got to say."
"May I see the trunk with the other clubs?"
"Certainly, go ahead. That's the trunk. One over in the
far corner."
Slade pulled the trunk down, opened it, and swung aside


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 115
a portable shelf of clothes. Fitted against the side of the
trunk, as the other had explained, was a rack with steel clips
holding five Indian clubs. One place in the rack was empty.
Slade was about to shut the trunk when he changed his
mind. Taking out his handkerchief, he pulled a club from
its clips, scrutinized it, and returned it to the rack. This
operation was watched steadily by Swensen.
The third club Slade took from the rack drew a sharp
exclamation from him.
"What's the matter now?" demanded Swensen, coming
forward.
Slade stepped to the window, held up the club, and the
other glanced at it over the detective's shoulder. Swensen
took a deep breath.
"Good God!" he cried. "Am I going crazy? Not—not a
second one!"
There was nothing Slade could say. The evidence of this
other club he had extracted from the Swede's trunk spoke
for itself. Like the club that had been used to kill the maid,
this other club had blood and hair smeared on its bulb. But
the blood was dried and the hair was darkish brown,
whereas the hair on the other club was fair, like that of the
murdered maid.
"What—what does it all add up to, Inspector? This is way
beyond me."
Slade stared hard at him.
"This club, Mr. Swensen"—he tapped the club with the
dried bloodstains—"was the weapon used to fell Bill Peg-
well."
"But you must be mistaken, Inspector! I—I can't see
that"
Swensen faltered. Slade's gaze was accusatory, unyielding.


n6 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"I am not mistaken, Mr. Swensen. What have you to say
regarding this?" He pointed again to the club. "Of course I
must warn you against making any statement that will in-
criminate yourself."
Swensen licked his lips.
"But, Inspector, I swear I know nothing about this club,
how those bloodstains got on it, or—or about knocking out
this man Pegwell. Why, if I did, then the diamonds"
He paused again.
"Exactly, Mr. Swensen. If you did know anything about
it—if you were the person who used this club to fell Peg-
well, then you would have that necklace . . . somewhere.
You see where this leads us, Mr. Swensen?"
"But, Inspector, appearances are entirely against me. I
know nothing, absolutely nothing."
"You will have a chance of repeating that later"
"Then you're going to arrest me?"
"I'm afraid I have no alternative, especially if your fin-
gerprints are on the haft of this second club. In that case I
could not run the risk of not arresting you, Mr. Swensen."
Slade saw the other's face pucker with concentrated
thought, and he guessed what was passing through the
Swede's mind.
"I should not advise you, Mr. Swensen, to attack me and
forcibly handle this club, so that your fingerprints will be
found on it."
The other's mouth twitched.
"Damn you, Inspector, you think too fast!" He grinned
sheepishly. "All right, the cards are stacked against me. But
let me say one thing."
"Very well."


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 117
"Would you say—you're investigating this case, you
know—that the person who knocked out Pegwell and stole
the necklace is the same person who killed the girl—and the
unknown man in the car?"
"I should say so, yes," returned Slade.
"Good." Swensen eased a finger round his collar. "I didn't
shoot the man in the car, and I have never had a gun since I
landed in this country."
"Maybe you will remember how easily you decided how
the car came to be in the lake, Mr. Swensen."
The Swede's face flushed.
"Confound you, I told Lady Malverne that would be
dragged up."
"Then you had anticipated . . . trouble?"
Slade's tone was suave. In time the other caught himself
and stayed a flow of hot, passionate words. He lit a fresh
cigarette and waited for his anger to cool. Anger, he could
see, would get him nowhere with Slade.
"Trouble, of course I'd anticipated it! This whole business
is a frame-up. That's as obvious as a rick in a cornfield.
Some one is very anxious to see me in a jam."
"That is your explanation?"
"Isn't it explicit?"
"Perhaps."
"And to stick this thing on me won't you have to dig up
some sort of motive?"
"Naturally. But wouldn't you consider a hundred and
fifty thousand in jewels sufficient motive for three mur-
ders? It's a full fifty thousand a-piece."
Slade had not chosen the words with the special purpose
of lashing the other to wild fury. He had not spoken in a


n8 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
mocking tone, but had kept his voice controlled and even.
However, Swensen's reaction was violent. He swung back a
fist and rushed at Slade.
"Damn you, you can't make"
Slade dodged the fist driving at his face, and neatly
turned on the ball of his foot, to bring his own left fist
round in a crashing blow against the side of the other's head.
Swensen sprawled his length.
He was not knocked out, but the blow had been dealt
with sufficient force to make his head spin. He climbed diz-
zily to his feet.
"God, you pack a bruising left," he grunted. "But thanks
all the same. I might have made a fool of myself if you
hadn't done that. I mean"—his gaze measured Slade—"a
worse fool than I have."
"I think we'd better go downstairs, Mr. Swensen. After
you, please."
Slade's manner intimated that he, for one, had forgotten
that occasion had ever demanded his knocking the other
down. Swensen shrugged, turned about, and went through
the door. Slade followed him downstairs to where Clinton
was waiting. When the sergeant saw the second club his
eyes lit.
"Shall I get through to the Yard?" he asked.
"Yes, and have this club tested for fingerprints. Frenton's
man hasn't gone yet, I take it?"
"No, he's still here."
Half an hour later Lady Malverne returned to her room,
weeping, Mrs. Clammer trying her best to console her. The
result of the testing of the second Indian club for finger-
prints and of Slade's talk to the Assistant Commissioner in
charge of the C.I.D. had been the arrest of Kurt Swensen


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 119
for the murder of one Maud Fading, maid at Steyning
Towers.
Lucie Malverne was beside herself.
"Judith," she told Mrs. Clammer, "they shan't do this to
me and not expect me to hit back."
"But, my dear, Inspector Slade had no alternative. The
facts"
"Facts!" cried the woman in love. "Facts are only things
as we see them. They may be wrong—we may be wrong,
short-sighted. The facts may not be facts. Do you mean to
tell me, Judith, you think Kurt murdered Maud?"
"No, I don't. I like him, but"
"There you are—but. Why must there be a but? Tell me
that. Because the police have to arrest some one. Well, I
won't bring any charge against that Bill Pegwell, and then
they won't be able to hold him. He, at least, has not mur-
dered anyone. They can only hold him if I wish to prose-
cute"
"I don't know about that, Lucie, but don't be foolish, my
dear. It won't help you. Perhaps this arrest of Kurt is a good
thing in a way you don't see it. You said just now facts are
only things as we see them. Perhaps we don't see this with
the—the right focus."
The other woman stared at her.
"Judith, that is nonsense, and you know it. How can
Kurt's arrest be for the best? In heaven's name how?"
"Well"—Judith Clammer's grey eyes lifted to the other's
face—"he says he isn't guilty"
"Of course he isn't!"
"And that therefore some one has framed him. I think he
means some one has done their best to make it appear that he
is guilty."


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 121
"Judith, it's not possible. No, you are wrong. You must
be. Some one else is responsible. That person responsible was
here, at Steyning Towers this morning, and now . . ." She
shuddered, and her hands fell limply into her lap. "No,
Judith, I tell you it is impossible," she said huskily.
But Judith Clammer was as undeviating as Fate, as re-
morseless.
"That's what you said when I told you Kurt had been
arrested. 'Impossible!' you cried and rushed downstairs like
a madwoman. But it wasn't impossible, Lucie. He was ar-
rested. And you won't be able to help him by losing your
nerve and going off at half-cock. You've got to pull your-
self together, dear. If you love him at all, you've got to do
that for him. You've got to show your face to the world and
make the world see that you believe in him."
The grey eyes were misty, but very wise and tender.
"But, Judith, I do love him, I do believe in him. I'll never
think him capable of such a terrible thing. I couldn't bear to
think that all the while he was in here, telling me that he
loved me and that he hadn't taken the diamonds, he knew
Maud lay on those dark stairs, her head crushed."
Judith Clammer nodded.
"That will make it easier for you. You will not have to
pretend."
"Pretend! That's what I've done ever since I married
Julius. My life has been one long pretence, Judith, and now,
when I can really live, take happiness in both hands—this is
what I get." She rose, colour returning to her cheeks. "I'm
going to London, Judith. I'm going to be near him, if neces-
sary to fight for him with every penny I have."
"Well, if those are the resources he can count on he ought


Chapter XII
The following morning the world's Press announced in
large, bold headlines the arrest of Kurt Swensen, the success-
ful Swedish-American Olympic champion, for the murder
of a Sussex girl at Steyning Towers. In England the arrest
created a furore of excitement. Editorials pondered how the
arrest of Swensen for this particular crime would aid in the
recovery of the missing Malverne diamonds. The Tears of
Death, the more sensational writers noted, had once more
justified their grim title.
But where were they?
Excitement reached fever-heat when the later afternoon
editions carried news of a startling development. The body
of the dead man found in the submerged car in the park of
Steyning Towers had been identified as that of Butterick,
the insurance company's staff detective!
Then who was the short, sandy-haired man who had
posed as the real Butterick?
Find him, cried the now confident "crime correspond-
ents" in the evening editions, and you will soon have the
Malverne diamonds.
However, the public was not told all that transpired on
that memorable Monday. It was not told the result of a de-
bate at the Yard between departmental chiefs. It was not
told of the sending of Kurt Swensen's dossier by the Balti-
more, Maryland, police by cable. Swensen had once been
arrested for nearly killing a nigger by hitting him on the
«3


124 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
head with a heavy block of wood. He had protested that the
negro had been drunk and had attacked him first, and he
had acted in self-defence; he had been acquitted by a court
who held little sympathy for the black man's alcoholic ex-
uberance.
Nor was the public told anything of the direct new lead
Slade obtained when he visited Reisenberg's office in Hatton
Garden and interviewed Tessa Pegwell.
The public was told that the girl Maud's fingernails had
been found to be stained with tiny particles of human blood
and that, under their fashionable points, small fragments of
torn human skin were discovered. A Home Office expert
left no doubt as to what these discoveries meant. The girl
had fought her assailant and lashed out with her hands, and
her nails had scratched.
The public was also told that no scratch marks were
found on Kurt Swensen's body.
But it was not told that when Slade walked into Max
Reisenberg's office he was surprised to see a strip of plaster
adorning the Jew's left hand.
Without making his interest too apparent, for the news
of the Home Office expert's findings had not by then been
circulated, Slade mentioned that the plaster had not been
on Reisenberg's hand when the Jew had left Steyning
Towers.
"No, it was a damned bush at the side of the road, In-
spector. My wife's hat blew off, and I had to go and get it.
Those thorns were sharp, as I've reason to know."
"I expect they were," agreed Slade, thinking that bruises
on Maud Farling's throat had proved that her assailant had
caught her by the left hand, while he swung the club with
his right.


126 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"No, thanks, Mr. Reisenberg."
"Well, as you will." A fat hand waved airily as the lid
of the cigar-box dropped. "But, Inspector, you're not going
to believe all that girl tells you?"
"That depends what she tells me."
"Of course. But you must remember she will be vindic-
tive about me. I've given her the sack, you know."
"As long as she tells me and not Mrs. Reisenberg, I don't
think you need worry, Mr. Reisenberg."
The Jew coloured. He coughed to cover a momentary,
but very real, confusion.
"Tessa—Mrs. Pegwell—is naturally inclined to resent my
asking questions about her husband's being at Steyning
Towers. I'm concerned now with only what she might tell
you out of spite. Do you understand me, Inspector?"
Slade felt like saying he understood precisely how much
of a worm Max Reisenberg was; but his reply was, "I think
I do, Mr. Reisenberg. And I think you should understand
that I have come here solely to learn what I can about the
whereabouts of that missing necklace."
Reisenberg patted his fat hands together.
"Good, then we understand each other perfectly, Inspec-
tor. A cigar now, perhaps? No. A pity, they are good
cigars. But"—shrewdness crept into eyes and tone—"do
you think she will be able to help you regarding the where-
abouts of the diamonds?"
Slade smiled bleakly.
"I cannot say without seeing her first."
The reply was a snub, delivered directly. Reisenberg had
enough sense not to continue his unfortunate fishing for
news.
"Naturally," he said, rising from his chair, his manner as


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 127
smooth as silk. "Now I will show you into her office, In-
spector. This way."
He held open the door.
"Some one to see you, Tessa. Inspector Slade of Scotland
Yard."
He said it with malice oozing from every pore. Slade felt
like delivering a hearty kick in the seat of the man's well-
stuffed trousers. Instead he jerked the door to after him with
an abruptness that threatened to break the frosted-glass of
the upper half.
He turned, to find regarding him a girl with wide eyes
and fluffy brown hair. Her face was round and intelligent;
she was neatly dressed in a brown woollen suit, and al-
though make-up was carefully applied to her face, there
was a well-scrubbed look about her. At first glance Tessa
Pegwell created a favourable impression on Slade. She stood
waiting for him to speak, a little frightened, but under per-
fect control, and in the raised line of her chin Slade dis-
covered determination.
He knew that he would have to fight for what he would
win from her, and he would win something only if he were
fortunate.
"You are Tessa Pegwell?" he asked.
A slim shoulder rose and dropped again.
"Do you have to start at the very beginning?" she in-
quired. "You've come to question me about my husband.
I've been waiting for you all morning. Well, before you ask
anything let me tell you something. I'll only speak if you
are willing to make a bargain with me. But what I'll tell
you, as my part of the bargain, will be plenty."
Slade might have smiled, and so enraged her. A slip of a
girl offering to barter with the law of the land. Actually


128 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Slade rather admired her. She was driven back on her last-
line defence, fighting for her husband, and she thoroughly
intended not to be the loser in the bargain.
Annoyance pencilled little lines in her white forehead as
Slade did not answer.
"Well?" she repeated. "Are you going to take me . . .
seriously?"'
It seemed that second thoughts had given her some doubt.
Probably she realized the limitation of her bargaining
powers.
"Yes, of course I'll take what you have to say seriously,
Mrs. Pegwell," said the Yard man, "but you will have to re-
member that your husband is in custody on a charge of
breaking into"
"I know all that."
She was brusque. Her chin was lifted again in its aggres-
sive tilt.
"Yes, I believe you do. You drove with him to Steyning
Towers, didn't you, Mrs. Pegwell?"
She considered the question gravely.
"I don't think there's any need for me to answer that
question, Inspector Slade."
"Not here, Mrs. Pegwell. But it will be different when
you are in a court, on oath."
She did not flinch.
"I'm sorry, but you're not stampeding me. I've still
got my bargain to make. You want the necklace called the
Tears of Death. Very well, I want Bill released. My bargain
is the necklace for Bill—and no tricks."
With difficulty Slade kept surprise from his face. She
knew where the diamonds were. It was even feasible that
she had them in her possession, although he could not at the


13o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
She interrupted.
"Our bargain doesn't call for advantage or disadvantage,
theoretical or otherwise, Inspector Slade. I can lead you to
the Malverne diamonds. In return for doing so I want my
husband released, and any charge made against him dropped
unconditionally."
Bright spots of colour flamed high in her cheeks. The
emotional tide, Slade saw, had turned.
"Isn't this a little melodramatic, Mrs. Pegwell?" he asked,
feeling melodramatic himself, but realizing that he had to
humour her to some extent.
"If you had a husband arrested by the police, Inspector,
perhaps you would call it melodramatic. I don't. And if he
were released only to be arrested again I still shouldn't call
it melodramatic. That is why I said—and repeat—uncondi-
tionally."
The term was ambiguous, and perhaps she did not realize
that. But Slade was wise enough not to quibble. Her mean-
ing was anything but ambiguous.
"I'll promise you, Mrs. Pegwell, that I'll see what can be
done. A formal charge, naturally, is made by Lady Mal-
verne. Only Lady Malverne can revoke the charge."
"That isn't good enough, Inspector. I want Bill released."
"If he isn't you won't tell what you know?"
"I certainly shan't. You can arrest me too. That won't
alter my mind."
No more would be gained by staying and endeavouring
to persuade her into another frame of mind.
"Very well, Mrs. Pegwell, I can't promise anything just
now. Not even that you won't be arrested. But I'll call on
you this evening, perhaps with news."
As he turned to go her reserve broke.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 131
"Tell me, Inspector," she asked, slightly breathless; "Bill
—he wasn't hurt bad, was he?"
There was a winsome look about the face that a few mo-
ments before had been set in lines of grim determination.
"No. It was a nasty crack, nothing more. Probably leave
him with a sore head for a few days, but there's nothing to
worry about."
"You're not—not"
She hesitated. Tessa Pegwell the suppliant was vastly
changed from Tessa Pegwell the bargainer.
"No, I'm telling you the truth, Mrs. Pegwell. You have
no reason to be worried about your husband's health."
"Thank you."
Reisenberg, spoiling a good cigar, jumped to his patent-
leather-shod feet as Slade came out of the girl's office.
"Was she . . . difficult?" he asked, shooting a sidelong
glance at the Yard man.
"I haven't decided yet, Mr. Reisenberg. Good day."
Slade left a very thoughtful Max Reisenberg behind him
as he passed through the doorway. He went back to the
Yard and the conference that was in session, there to learn
that Lady Malverne, annoyed at the arrest of Kurt Swensen
on a murder charge, had come to London and through her
solicitor very forcibly intimated that she would bring no
charge against Bill Pegwell.
"She's going to be difficult, Slade," said the A.C. when
the conference was concluded and the two were in the lat-
ter's office.
Slade was minded of Reisenberg's last question before he
left the Jew's office in Hatton Garden.
"Shall we have to release Pegwell?"
"Not necessarily," said the A.C. "We can alter the


i32 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
charge, we can hold him on suspicion—but not for long.
And where the shoe pinches is Swensen. He's under arrest.
Well, we can't just go on merrily making charges and drop-
ping them. Yet this fingernail evidence of the murdered
girl leaves a loop-hole in the case against Swensen. He hasn't
any scratches on his whole body, not recent ones."
"And Reisenberg has."
Slade explained the Jew's story of getting his wife's hat
and scratching his hand on a thorn-bush.
"What do you make of it, Slade?"
"Frankly, I think the murders are connected directly
with the stealing of the diamonds. They were different
threads in the pattern of the same plot."
"Yes, I'll concede that. It makes sense. If it didn't I should
be more perturbed than I am. What else?"
"Well, we've concentrated on the human side of the case,
the suspects, their alibis, and the cases against them. But
there is another side to the case."
"What's that?"
"The diamonds. They are somewhere. Some one has them.
Perhaps if we concentrated now on that side of the case we
should come back to the murder angle."
"Walk back round the circle you've made?"
"In a sense, yes."
"And that means PegwelFs wife."
"If her story is not a piece of bluff."
"Did it sound like bluff to you?"
"No, I think she knows something. Probably not as much
as she makes out, because she would naturally try to im-
press us in order to secure her husband's release. But I'm
pretty sure there is something useful to be learned from
her. But she'll stand to the bargain."


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 133
"Two women, eh, determined to be cussed? Lady Mal-
verne and Bill PegwelPs wife, and both about the same man.
Think this is an instance where the same stone might bring
down two—er—feathered creatures? I suppose I shouldn't
say birds in this connexion."
Slade smiled dutifully at the mild joke.
"I think it may be worth trying. We could keep Pegwell
close-watched. In fact, he might be more useful free than
in custody now that Swensen is being held. If he is linked
up with some one else we may get a lead when he's not so
careful."
"True, although it's a risk, either way one looks at it,
Slade. However, I'll arrange for Pegwell to be brought to
London for questioning, and then we'll have him formally
released on the grounds that the charge has been retracted.
Think you might do something with his wife when she
hears that?"
"I think it's very likely. It would be important, of course,
to get our information from her before she sees her hus-
band."
"Still sticking to your theory that she was with him on
that expedition, eh?"
"I'm certain of it. Any news of the bogus Butterick, sir?"
"No, Slade. That gentleman has disappeared into the
blue. If he isn't the murderer he's an accessory, mixed up in
it somewhere. And by the way Swensen has decided not to
talk any more. Just shut up like a clam. Of course, we've
got to be careful. After all, he's an American citizen, and a
popular figure in the athletic world."
The A.C. rose, and Slade knew the interview was over.
"I'll report this evening, sir, after seeing Mrs. Pegwell. I


134 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
suppose nothing's come of the hunt for some fingerprints of
the bogus Butterick?"
"Not a thing. It was a last hope, anyway."


Chapter XIII
When Slade stood before the front door of the small house
in Clapham where the Pegwells lived he half expected to
find that Tessa Pegwell had taken refuge in flight. He was
aware of a sense of pleasurable surprise when in answer to
his ring the door opened and the girl stood before him.
"Good evening, Inspector."
"Good evening, Mrs. Pegwell. You've seen the evening
papers?"
He was taken into the tiny but comfortable sitting-room,
and a worn armchair was pushed forward for him. The
furniture was reminiscent of that to be found in suburban
second-hand shops. Good of its kind, but its best days had
long been passed.
"Yes, and I feel sure now that you can't hold Bill any
longer."
There was a new note in her low voice. It might have
been of hesitation or of last-minute doubt in her own
ability to go through with this thing.
"We've considered the case very carefully, Mrs. Pegwell,
and while I cannot say that the police can make a 'bargain'
as you suggested, I think I can tell you that in return for
important information you may be able to give us you will
find the charges against your husband will not be pressed."
"That means—just what, Inspector?"
"That he will not be brought before a magistrate's court
and the charge made officially. Of course, your husband
might object at the sudden dropping of the case, and press
I3S


136 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
for a hearing—if he is innocent. He might wish to counter
us with a charge of wrongful arrest."
"I don't think you need contemplate that, Inspector."
"No, I don't think so, but I want to make the situation
very plain, Mrs. Pegwell, at this stage."
"I understand. What guarantee shall I have that—that
Bill will be released?"
"No official guarantee, of course. Even my word is not
official, but I can tell you that the charge will not be brought
against your husband by Lady Malverne. Does that satisfy
any doubts you have?"
Her glance was dubious.
"I suppose it will have to."
Slade pulled an argumentary rabbit from his hat.
"Perhaps there is one aspect of the case you have not con-
sidered." Round eyes watched him reflectively. "The sooner
the diamonds are found and restored to their owner the bet-
ter will be your husband's position regarding the police.
You must realize that, in the circumstances, we cannot view
his position in the case as anything but seriously compromis-
ing. And your husband has a record."
The wide eyes narrowed.
"You don't realize, Inspector, that Bill was framed that
first time. He swears it. And, knowing Bill, I believe him.
That's what made him feel he had to—to strike back, to do
something to sort of make the balance even, and"
She stopped, realizing too late how she had committed
her husband.
Slade nodded.
"That's very unfortunate"
She bridled.
"We don't want sympathy, Inspector. Just a chance to


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 137
earn a living and enjoy our lives. Instead of that, what
chance has Bill of getting a job, with detectives calling
round to inquire where he is, what he is doing? This is the
third place we've lived in since Bill came out, and still a man
from the local police station calls round."
"Is your husband on remand?"
"Not now."
"Very well, Mrs. Pegwell, I'll bear all this in mind, and
if you can really help us I'll see if we—well, can't help in
some way. But don't expect anything, then you won't be
disappointed."
The expression on her face indicated how little she was
ready to expect. Slade changed the subject abruptly, and
got down to business.
"Now, the diamonds, Mrs. Pegwell. What do you know?
Who has them, and just how did you come to find out? I
need hardly warn that anything save the truth would be
futile. We shall check your statement closely. By the way, I
had better tell you that we shall expect a signed statement,
stating that you offer the information voluntarily. You have
no objection?"
"No."
Her lips barely opened to emit the word. She was staring
at the opposite wall, trying desperately to think, to see
whither she was leading herself. In a few moments her one
chance of helping Bill would be gone, bartered for what?
She glanced at Slade. His face was grave.
"I shall have, first, to make an admission, which I do re-
luctantly," she said.
Slade remained silent.
"I went to Steyning Towers with my husband."
The detective nodded.


138 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"I know. He gave that fact away himself."
She shook her head confidently. "Not Bill, Inspector.
You can't make me believe that."
Slade said nothing. He had decided not to help her. Her
story must be her own. Realizing that she could not draw
him into explaining how he had learned she was with Bill,
she continued, resignation in her tone and manner.
"We arranged for me to wait a certain time . . . while
Bill was gone. I know you're not concerned with what hap-
pened before that, Inspector, but I had argued with Bill
against trying his hand at that job. But, as I told you, he
was still smarting about the police framing him. He swears
he was framed, and this was to be his challenge. If you knew
Bill you'd know that argument is wasted once he has set his
mind on doing something."
"I think I know him sufficiently to realize that, Mrs.
Pegwell," said Slade, remembering the process of his own
interviews with Bill Pegwell.
"Well, we went. Bill hired a car, and I waited. I waited,
actually, an hour longer than we had arranged, and he
didn't turn up. I knew then that something had happened
—to Bill; and I started up the car. I'd got on to the main
road running by Steyning Towers—I'd been parked in a
lane, you see—when I saw some one break from the high
hedge running along the Towers side of the road. This per-
son was a woman, and I gave her a lift to the station."
She paused, smoothed the skirt of her dress, and lifted
her glance to the detective's face.
"I had a feeling that I must know where that woman
went to, Inspector. I can only explain that feeling by say-
ing that I knew something had gone wrong with Bill, some-
thing had happened to him, and that this woman had come


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 139
from the grounds of Steyning Towers. To me it seemed she
might know what had happened. I was a little frightened,
and I suppose more than a little desperate. You see, my hus-
band may be a bull-headed fool at times, but I happen to
love him. I felt things were left up to me, and if I had a
chance of helping him I should take it. This woman was my
chance. She got into the back of the car when I held open
the door of the seat beside mine, and she didn't talk. Just
said she had missed the bus.
"I drove her to the station, as I said, and then I realized
that she was going away without my knowing anything
about her or even if she knew anything about what had
happened to Bill. I made up my mind to follow her. I garaged
the car in the next village, and went back to the station. It
was late, and not many trains were running to London. I
saw nothing of her until I was in the train and the train was
moving out of the station. She then ran across the platform
and jumped in, I suppose, an empty compartment. That
made me more determined than ever to find out something
about her. I was scared, I must admit, and I was tired, and
behind all the excitement I felt that I was being a fool. Yet
I was happy. You understand? It was a chance to learn
something, and I was taking it.
"The woman left the train at East Croydon. I followed
her on to a bus, and to a block of flats somewhere along the
main road towards Purley, isn't it? I think it sounds all very
t like a thriller novel now, but at the time I felt I was doing
the only thing possible, the only thing for me to do. I fol-
lowed the woman into the flats"
For the first time Slade interrupted.
"Did she act in any way that might suggest she knew
she was being followed?"


14o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"No, she went straight up the stairs to her flat."
"Didn't take a lift?"
"I don't think it was working. Anyway, if she wanted to
be unobserved, wouldn't it be better to take the stairs?
Other late-comers might have used a lift that was still
operating?"
Slade nodded.
"Perhaps you're right. Go on, Mrs. Pegwell, please."
"When she had gone into her flat I opened a door that led
on to a wide balcony. There were flower-borders near the
coping, and the balcony seemed to run along the whole
front of the building. Fortunately her window overlooked
that side of the building, and I saw a light shining through
curtains that had not been drawn together properly. I knelt
under the window and watched. She must have put through
a trunk call, because it was a long time before she got the
number she asked the exchange for. Whoever she was talk-
ing to must have doubted what she said, I think, for after
some moments she took something from the pocket of her
overcoat, and held it up. The light, Inspector, shone on the
Malverne necklace."
Slade started.
"You're sure?"
"There could be no mistaking that necklace. I had never
seen it before, and I don't know much about precious
stones. They've never made up part of my life, as you'll
know, Inspector. But that was the Tears of Death necklace
that Bill"
She caught herself in time.
Slade was watching her with narrowed eyes; it was a wild,
improbable-sounding story; such a story as a woman anx-
ious to bluff the police might concoct. Yet there was some-


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 141
thing so essentially sane about Tessa Pegwell, perhaps a
slight challenge in her manner, that Slade was assured her
words had described an actual experience. It was as though
she herself realized how bizarre this story of her amateur
sleuthing sounded, and had told it in spite of the scepticism
it might invoke.
In her own way Tessa Pegwell was a clever woman. Her
instant response to Slade's query about the lift revealed that
she could think clearly. She must know that a story of this
kind could not be accepted unless she could offer more de-
tails, times, the name of the block of flats, the garage slip,
etc.
The story must be true. Fantastic, a ridiculously simple
sequel to two murders and the mountain of mystery Slade
had faced at Steyning Towers—but a sequel, none the less,
that contained the ultimate solution of this unusual case.
"What did you do then, Mrs. Pegwell?"
The calmly uttered question appeared to rouse her from
a reverie. The fingers crumpled against her cheek slipped
into her lap and again made that smoothing gesture across
the skirt of her dress. They were long, white fingers, un-
adorned save for the slim gold band that was sign manual
of Bill Pegwell's possession.
"I came home. It was very late. I walked a considerable
distance before I was able to stop a late Green Line bus that
took me to Brixton. I walked home from Brixton."
Slade took out a notebook.
"Now, a few details, please. The name of the garage
where you left your car?"
"I don't know the name, but I have a bill in my hand-
bag. I'll get it."


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 143
that caused me to make up my mind to leave the car and
follow her on the train."
"And she left the train at East Croydon?"
"That's right."
"Know the number of the bus she took?"
"Not for certain. I was too anxious to be sure and catch
the bus. I had to wait until she was on it, because if she had
seen me she would have recognized me, and that would
have ended any chance I had of discovering something
about her and what she was doing. However, I've got an
idea the bus was a Number 12.1 can't be sure, though. It's
just an idea I have. I may have seen the number as I got off
it, but I can't be sure."
"Now, how about times, Mrs. Pegwell?"
She smiled faintly. She had practically no idea of how the
time had passed that night. She knew when she left the
rendezvous in the side-lane, and when the train left the
country station, but was not sure what time it arrived at
East Croydon, and after that time had ceased to have any
meaning for her. She had been too tired to worry, at first,
and after she had seen the diamonds in the woman's hand
too excited.
Slade made some notes in his book before putting the next
question: "Can you describe the woman at all, Mrs. Peg-
well? Were there any distinguishing features about her—I
mean, her appearance, her voice, for instance? She did
speak, I understand."
"Oh, yes, she spoke, but only when I asked her a definite
question. I got the impression that she was not English."
Slade glanced up quickly.
"Oh! Why?"
"Well, she spoke English well, but with a slight accent.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 145
ber of similar-looking women? You see, Mrs. Pegwell, those
are the details I want now, details that will help me."
She nodded mutely, feeling that, after all, she had been
very unobservant. She couldn't even guess at the woman's
age, with hope of being within five years. And how could
she tell whether or not her teeth had been her own?
"I'm afraid you must find me very disappointing, In-
spector," she said apologetically, while feeling that she had
no reason to make an apology.
Slade smiled.
"On the contrary, Mrs. Pegwell, I think the average
woman would not have done half so well. I cannot expect
you to notice details with a trained eye. I just mentioned a
few things in the hope that you would remember some de-
tail you had forgotten."
She shook her head. "No, I can't help you any more.
That's all I know. And"—she hesitated—"that's my part of
the bargain, Inspector."
Slade got up.
"You won't have reason to regret giving me this informa-
tion, Mrs. Pegwell," he promised. "But of course you realize
that now you have other interest for the police."
Her eyes widened; she looked startled.
"Other interest?"
"Certainly. You'll be a valuable witness in the prosecu-
tion at the trial."
"Oh, I hadn't thought"
"Perhaps the one witness on whom the whole case will
depend. You see, you'll be of real value to the Crown's case,
and"—his tone became grave—"nothing must happen to
you, Mrs. Pegwell."
She stood very still.


146 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"You think I shall be in danger?"
He shrugged.
"I can't say. I can only warn you, and point out that two
murders have been committed already. Presumably because
those diamonds are worth the taking of a very big risk, and
there is some one involved who is prepared to take that risk.
If you require police protection, naturally I will see
that"
"No, Inspector, no! Bill wouldn't I couldn't! You
see, with things as they are . . ."
She stopped, breathless.
"Yes, I think I see," said Slade slowly. "But I shall warn
your husband when he is brought to the Yard for ques-
tioning. You will have to be careful, and we may have to
take steps without consulting you."
"I shouldn't want that, Inspector."
"We wouldn't want to have to force such attention on
you, but you must realize that the circumstances are very
unusual, Mrs. Pegwell. I am sure your husband would be
relieved to know that his wife has ample protection."
That last was a skilful point. It effectively ended further
protest at the moment, and while she was still contemplat-
ing this possible new development that Slade had envisioned
the Yard man bade her good-night and left.
He went to the nearest telephone kiosk, put through a call
to the Yard, and twenty-three minutes later a Flying Squad
car picked him up and whirled him through Southwest
London at a speed that flagrantly flouted the results of Mr.
Hore-Belisha's campaign for road safety.
But a sharp disappointment awaited Anthony Slade. He
arrived at 73 Dunbar Court to find it untenanted. In short,
the bird had flown.


Chapter XIV
The resident agent of the large block of modern suburban
flats known as Dunbar Court was in no gentle mood at be-
ing roused from his paper and pipe to answer Slade's ques-
tions. He appeared to resent the intrusion upon his evening's
peace as something personal. It wasn't till Slade said, "Very
well, Milford, if you prefer to talk at the Yard, get your
coat. I am investigating two murders and the theft of the
Malverne diamonds . . ." that the agent's manner changed.
"Good God!" he cried. "Not the Malverne case!"
"Do we get any assistance from you?" said Slade.
"But I've got to think of the reputation of this property.
There's been a lot of money spent, and we want good
tenants"
"Well you've started the wrong way. We have informa-
tion that one of your tenants was in possession of the Mal-
verne necklace. That tenant was occupying No. 73"
"She's moved out."
"So we know—now. We went up to call on the lady,
and got no reply. The occupant of 75 says she moved out
this morning. Well, that's not many hours' start. But it's
too much, Milford."
"What the devil can I do?"
"We want to see inside 73, and we want anything you've
got filed about her."
"I can manage that, I suppose."
"We're in a hurry. We've got to question her neighbours,
see if they know anything."
147


148 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"But"—the agent made a feeble gesture with the hand
holding his pipe—"this block of flats prides itself on its
privacy, Inspector. I repeat, I've got to look to the prop-
erty's reputation. That's partly my job."
"Very well. Give us what assistance you can, and I'll see
our inquiry doesn't harm the reputation of Dunbar Court,
Milford."
"Good. That's a deal."
A new eagerness crept into the agent's voice. He seemed
reassured.
"Understand," he said, "I don't want to be difficult, but
I've got a job, and it's a good one as jobs go to-day. I don't
want to lose it, see?"
"Get a move on, man. We're not imperilling your job."
Slade was annoyed and irritated. At the back of his mind
lay the thought that now he could not check completely
Tessa PegwelPs story. Had she tried to trick him?
Milford's failure to respond to the obvious need for speed
did nothing to allay the doubt.
Slade, Clinton, and a fingerprint man, accompanied by
Milford, went back to Flat 73. The agent opened the door
with his pass-key, and the Yard men entered a typical small
modern flat, comprising two rooms with a small bathroom.
Slade glanced round at the furniture.
"She brought in none of her own stuff?" he asked the
agent.
"No, it's only furnished flats this side, unfurnished the
other. We don't encourage tenants adding to the furnished
flats; they might make a mistake when they shift out."
"Then she took nothing out with her?"
"Only her bags, if that's what you mean."


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 149
Slade turned to the fingerprint man.
"Right, go ahead. Pick up all you can."
The man set to work immediately, much to the mysti-
fication and increasing interest of Milford, who, at first, was
inclined to object to graphite powder being sprinkled on the
proprietors' furniture.
"Now, Milford, what name did she give?"
"Mrs. Savarin."
Slade started. Savarin. He had heard that name men-
tioned recently, but could not at the moment recall where
or by whom. But he was certain it was in connexion with the
Malverne case.
Savarin ... it was unusual . . . foreign.
"Was she a foreigner?"
"She might have been. Can't say I took any interest in
her. Too many here for me to worry about 'em separately,
as it were." Milford scratched his head. "She took it for three
months, that's our lowest period, you know. But she moved
out before the first week was up. I admit that's a bit queer."
"What's that?" Slade cried. "Took the flat on a three-
months' lease and left before the first week was up?"
"That's right."
"Well, she may be coming back. She may only have
moved away for a few days."
Hope sprang anew, until Milford shook his head lugu-
briously and began picking a tooth with a grubby finger-
nail while watching the antics of the fingerprint man.
"No, it ain't like that. She's gone. She come to me and
said, 'Mr. Milford, I'm leaving my flat. I find I've got to
leave on urgent business for South America. It's a pity I
took the flat, but I didn't know then just how things would


1jo THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
turn out.' So she gives me the keys, collects her bags, and
leaves Dunbar Court. And you say she's walked off with
the Malverne diamonds?"
"I don't say she's done anything of the kind, Milford.
Forget I mentioned the Malverne diamonds. Get me?"
The agent swallowed in a manner that, from his facial ex-
pression, was singularly uncomfortable. He spluttered as he
recovered his breath.
"I get you all right. I know how to keep my mouth
closed. Don't worry."
"What time did she leave?"
"About half-past eleven this morning. Might have been
a bit nearer twelve. She had a cab from East Croydon come
and collect her bags."
"Clinton," said Slade, "take our friend for a walk on the
balcony for a few minutes. I'm going to put through a
'phone call."
The indignant Milford was escorted outside by the smil-
ing sergeant, and Slade, watching the fingerprint man's
back, put through another call to the Yard. He was switched
through to his own department and to Sergeant Farrar.
"Farrar," he said, "get the boats that sailed for South
America to-day covered, see if it was possible for anyone
leaving Croydon about noon to get aboard. If it isn't pos-
sible, have a notice put through to the docks and get the
local men to go over the passenger lists for every day this
week. Name might be Savarin, but I doubt it."
He hung up.
As he watched the fingerprint man rig his apparatus
afresh he told himself that he doubted very much if she in-
tended to go to South America at all. Perhaps she was in
the habit of telling people she was going in the opposite


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS iji
direction. Brighton . . . London. South America . . . the
U.S.A., Canada, the North Pole. . . .
He went out to where Clinton and Milford were staring
at the lights of Croydon, stretching like a gleaming river at
the base of a deep-welled canyon of darkness.
"Milford," said Slade, "had this Mrs. Savarin red hair?"
"Sort of. Dark red it was."
"Did she give any references?"
"No. We don't ask for them. A month's money in ad-
vance is all we take, and that's generally sound enough."
"Been no letters for her since she left?"
"No, nor postcards."
The humorous enlargement failed like a damp squib.
"Had she any initials on her bags and travelling-trunks?"
"No. If there were any I didn't see 'em."
"Now, what about 'phone calls? Have you a house ex-
change for this block of fiats?"
"No, every subscriber has a separate number, connected
direct with the exchange."
"I see the number of Mrs. Savarin's 'phone is an Up-
lands number and the 'phone hasn't a dialling disk."
"That's right. We come under the Uplands exchange, just
outside the London dialling area."
"So every outgoing call has to be asked of the exchange
operator?"
"Yes, of course."
"Thanks, Milford, that'll be all, I think. No need to keep
you any longer. One word, don't forget—don't talk."
The man slouched away, muttering to himself. Clinton
and Slade returned to the flat, where the fingerprint man
had finished his task.
"How many, Irvin?" asked Slade.


152 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Four different people all told, two sets, but some of the
second set are a bit old."
"More than a week?"
"Yes, a month or so, I should say."
"And the other set?"
"Well, the first set is a man's and I should say, a woman's
prints, and the woman's are all over the place, but I've an
idea the man tried to wipe out most of his. There are
roughly cleaned surfaces near most places where I picked
up his prints. The second set, another man and woman's, I
think, have some of the prints underlaying the first, but
never overlaying."
Slade nodded.
"All right, Irvin. You can leave it now. Clinton, we'll
return to our friends in 75."
The occupants of Flat 75 were a middle-aged couple
named Bridgewater. When Slade and his sergeant disturbed
them for the second time that evening they were engaged
as they had been upon the first occasion, practising the solu-
tion of a contract problem. However, the cards were put on
one side as the detectives re-entered, and Mr. Bridgewater,
taking off his spectacles, thought the occasion called for a
drink. He produced whisky and a siphon.
Over his drink he mused, and glanced at his wife.
"I don't think there's much we can tell Inspector Slade, is
there, Annie?"
"No, Ted. I only saw the woman once, as she was com-
ing in and I was going out. Let's see, that would be last
Thursday. She came in on the Wednesday. Yes, it was
Thursday. I remember distinctly because it was the day be-
fore the quarrel."


154 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"So I do, Ted, so don't make me say I don't."
When Mr. Bridgewater's blush had faded Slade inquired,
"How tall was this man, Mr. Bridgewater?"
"Oh, a couple of inches shorter than I am. About five
seven and a half or eight, I should say."
In Slade's mind was a picture of the bogus Butterick.
That had been about the man's height.
"And his hair? You noticed the colour?"
"Yes, I couldn't help noticing. He had his hat in his
hand. It was dark, rather thin on top, you know, but dark
and very oily."
Slade's glance met Clinton's. The two Yard men had been
thinking along the same line. Clinton shrugged.
"Had he a moustache, Mr. Bridgewater?"
"No, he was clean-shaven."
Several more minutes passed while Slade continued to
ask questions that failed to produce any helpful response. At
last he and Clinton took their departure and left the Bridge-
waters to return to their study of contract.
"What do you make of it, Clinton?"
The sergeant was ready to throw in his hand.
"I'm stumped. It's the woman Tessa Pegwell told you
about. That part of it's all right. But this dark-haired man
doesn't fit in anywhere. He isn't the man we thought was
Butterick, although his height is about right. Furthermore,
he isn't Barry Birchall, Lady Malverne's step-brother. Birch-
all is fair. Not as fair as Swensen, but no one would call
him dark. Besides, Birchall was in Paris when the diamonds
were stolen. Even more certainly he was in Paris when the
real Butterick was murdered, according to the medical re-
port and the check that 'phone call from Paris gives us."
Slade nodded. Clinton was right. This new dark man


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 155
fitted in nowhere that they knew. He might be the hus-
band of the red-haired woman, Mrs. Savarin. But that told
them nothing.
"We'll be getting back now, Clinton. I've given Farrar a
job, and I want to get on to the Uplands exchange and have
that mystery 'phone call that took half an hour to come
through looked up. And I want the Croydon police to sort
out the taxi-driver who called for Mrs. Savarin this morn-
ing."
"You hoping for anything from that angle?"
"Not much, Clinton, I must confess. She probably took
a train at East Croydon for London—Victoria or London
Bridge—and got herself conveniently lost."
They returned to the Yard, and Slade flung off his coat
and got down to work again. He rang through to the Up-
lands exchange, and made an official request for informa-
tion. While the records were being searched he got on to the
Croydon Police, and set the wheels in motion for the local
men to pick up the taxi-driver who had called at Dunbar
Court for Mrs. Savarin.
By the time he had finished explaining to the Croydon
police the Uplands exchange was ringing through again,
with information.
Uplands 86190, Mrs. Savarin's number, Slade was in-
formed, had put through a call to Paris at twelve fifty-seven
on the night in question. Connexion had been made finally
about one forty.
Slade asked for the Paris number, and was told it.
Abelard 7810.
At once something clicked in the detective's brain. The
association of two ideas had produced a single illuminating
ray of light.


i56 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Savarin, the elusive name, and Abelard 7810.
Barry BirchalPs Paris address was—Slade checked from
his notebook—34 bis Rue de Savarin; and the number he
had checked up from Steyning Towers as the incoming
cable call was BirchalPs number, Abelard 7810.
"Now what do you make of it, Clinton?" Slade asked
his assistant.
Clinton considered.
"There's a connexion somewhere, yet it isn't possible
from what we know that Birchall can be directly involved.
A man can't be in two places at the same time—not two
places as far apart as Steyning Towers and the Rue de
Savarin in Paris."
"Seemingly that is so."
"Why seemingly? His sister spoke to him. She would
know his voice. She wouldn't make an alibi for him, would
she?"
"No, she wouldn't do that, Clinton, with feeling between
Birchall and Swensen running pretty nearly to high tide."
"And you did check that number."
"True, I did. But voices can be faked. We mustn't forget
that."
"Then check with Paris. Get the Surete to send a plain-
clothes man to make a few quiet inquiries. That should set-
tle the point."
"And if it does?"
Clinton raised his arms and dropped them.
"It's too much for me," he confessed. "There's a con-
nexion between the woman and Birchall. She might have
heard him say something about the diamonds and used
him."
"How?"


Chapter XV
The next morning Slade was at his desk early. The Malverne
diamonds case was growing in extent, the number of leads
the police had now to cover meant close and hard routine
work, with the chance of finding little of real value; but
routine work that had to be done.
Farrar's efforts with the companies with shipping lines
to South America had produced no result save a fair assump-
tion that the red-haired woman could not have travelled on
the day she left Dunbar Court. The Croydon police had
traced the driver of the taxi that had been called to Dunbar
Court, one William Meggie. As Slade had supposed, Meggie's
fare had told him to drive to East Croydon station. The local
police had found a booking-clerk at the first-class counter
who remembered the woman. She had taken a first-class
single to Victoria.
And there that particular trail ended. A couple of Yard
plain-clothes men were sent to Victoria, but Slade knew that
the chance of finding her trail at the big London terminus
was about as hopeful as his chance of buying a winning
ticket in the Irish Sweep.
The question seemed to resolve itself into one of: had she
gone aground in London or sailed abroad?
Close watch was to be kept at all ports for a woman
answering her description.
About ten o'clock news came from Paris. A Surete de-
tective reported that M. Barry Birchall was still residing
at 34 bis Rue de Savarin, that M. Birchall, so far from being
i$9


16o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
able to journey to England to take part in stealing a fortune
in jewels and murdering two persons, had been confined
to his bed from Saturday morning until Monday night. It
appeared that M. Birchall was suffering from some dis-
order of the liver.
"That's scotched our chance of a Paris lead," said Slade
to Clinton when the news came through. "Now we know
it is impossible to include Birchall. His alibi's as sound as
a rock."
Half an hour later another lead failed them. The photo-
graphed and developed fingerprints of both sets taken in Flat
73 at Dunbar Court were unknown in the files of the Yard's
Records Department. •>
Slade, in short, was left high and dry.
Swensen remained under arrest, and Bill Pegwell was be-
ing brought up from Sussex. He arrived about quarter-
past eleven. In the office of Department X2 a fresh fire of
questions was levelled at him. He kept his head and his
temper, and replied civilly, and, so far as it was possible
for him to make a favourable impression, he made it. A
few definite facts were precipitated in the course of this
new experiment. Firstly, Bill knew nothing of the red-haired
woman and didn't want to know anything. Secondly, when
it was pointed out that, owing to the information with which
she had parted, his wife might soon be in danger Bill's atti-
tude towards the police changed considerably. He showed
himself ready to co-operate in any way he could—"s^ long
as you don't ask me to be pleasant to that dirty swine Reisen-
berg."
It was Bill's one flare-up.
It became apparent, too, that Bill had been definitely the
victim of circumstances. He had been playing a lone hand


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 161
in his effort to obtain the diamonds (once more he explained
his reason why, this time to various grave official nods that
were not in the least approving of his filibuster attitude),
and had run counter to interests that obviously involved
the employ of several persons.
His opinion sought, Bill doggedly adhered to his original
statement of his belief that Reisenberg had cracked him on
the head and stolen the necklace.
Bill was allowed to walk out of Scotland Yard, as he
thought, a free man. Actually, two plain-clothes men were
detailed to watch him and the divisional plain-clothes men
throughout London were told to be on the look-out for him.
His every movement would be reported.
As the A.C. said to Slade after Bill had been 'released,'
"We're running a certain risk, Slade, but we've got to have
a 'draw' for our game, and Bill Pegwell and his wife will
suit excellently. I might have some twinge of conscience,
Slade, if Pegwell were a good citizen, but he isn't. He's got
to prove himself. He's only beginning to realize what
citizenship entails on the part of the citizen."
So that morning passed, much covered but little achieved,
and no advance made over the previous day's record in the
case.
Slade called to see Lady Malverne after lunch. He found
Mrs. Clammer still with her, and Lady Malverne herself
somewhat changed. She was taking Swensen's arrest harder
and more to heart than Slade had thought she would. He
could sfee that even Mrs. Clammer's salutary influence was
beginning to lose its initial potency, and he felt sorry for
both women.
Lucie Malverne was surprised when she learned the reason
for the detective's call. He wanted to know if her half-


162 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
brother had ever complained of liver trouble. She told him
no, not to her knowledge, and gave him the name of the
doctor who had attended her half-brother and herself in
London. As he left Lady Malverne's town house Slade saw
Sir Vincent Brugman stepping out of his new Rolls Royce
Phantom III. Plainly Lady Malverne was prepared to spend
plenty of money in Swensen's defence. Brugman was the
ablest defence counsel in the country.
Being essentially thorough, Slade called upon the doctor
who had attended the Birchalls before Lucie's marriage to
Sir Julius Malverne. Dr. Murray was a Scotsman with laugh-
ing blue eyes and scarcely no trace of a burr in his voice.
"Liver?" he queried. "Lord no, man! Barry Birchall was
as strong as an ox. Not a robust-looking ox, I'll agree. But
his strength was sound, and his body was sound. And if
anybody asked me I'd say the same about his brain. A keen
fellow, but with a lazy-bone in his carcase—or maybe
several."
Slade returned to the Yard, thoughtful. Barry BirchalFs
liver was assuming, in the detective's mind, more significant
proportions, and it was not long before the detective was
asking himself if a clever young Englishman had managed
to fool a Paris detective.
The answer he sought might only be secured after a trip
to Paris and a personal investigation. But that would mean
holding up the case at the opposite end, which Slade didn't
wish to do.
An ironical comment on this was a report from the man
set to watch Captain Furniss, now in his little bachelor flat
in St. John's Wood. The Captain had gone to a local public-
house and consumed various quantities of weak whisky-and-
soda, he had called in at a library, he had bought some to-


164 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Fleet Street had as yet received no hint that the police
hunt for the Malverne diamonds might not be confined
to the British Isles.
Wednesday morning, however, the case received fresh
impetus. No less than information from Paris. One of the
fingerprints in the set sent by Slade to the Quai des Orfevres
was identified as having been made by a gentleman known
to the Paris police as the brother of the Red Doll.
Details were provided.
The brother of the Red Doll was a gentleman of no good
repute who specialized in aiding presentable swindlers, the
high-class card-sharpers. He had worked with the demi-
mondaines, and was believed to have connexions with several
of the leaders of the Paris dope-ring.
There was the Red Doll herself. She was known to have
used two names, Aimee Deparis and Lucille Bourget, but
she was best known by the name with which she had ap-
peared in the Folies du Casino Rouge—La Poupee Rouge,
the Red Doll.
A man had been shot at the Casino. Rumour had it he
was a lover. The truth was never known. The gun was never
found. The Red Doll disappeared. The management of the
Casino saw to that.
Six months afterwards Robert Deparis had his finger-
prints taken by the police, but he escaped imprisonment.
Elections were pending, and votes were wanted. Robert De-
paris, the brother of the Red Doll, was lucky.
He too disappeared.
The French police, in their report to Scotland Yard, in-
cluded the information that both brother and sister were
known to be excellent linguists. They were believed to be
of Italian and Gascon extraction. Certainly both could speak


166 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
the statements he had taken down at the Towers when he
interviewed the staff. They were all English. None could
have been of Italian or Gascon extraction. And the Friday
night ruled out that possibility. On the Friday night Edward
Bridgewater had seen and shoved downstairs the red-haired
woman's confederate, her brother. Therefore he could not
be numbered among the staff at Steyning Towers.
But could he have been Butterick?
Slade went over every detail of the bogus detective as he
remembered the man. Had his hair been false, a wig, still
the man could not have assumed his utterly English role
without being English. Slade found himself unconvinced
that Robert Deparis, excellent linguist though he might be,
could have taken the role of Butterick, the sandy-haired de-
tective. The man had been perfect in his part. No foreigner,
with only an acquired English background and knowledge
of English ways, could have hoped to pass that acid test
under the eyes of two detectives from Scotland Yard. To
have attempted the feat would have been praiseworthy, to
have succeeded impossible.
Yet some one had done it. Some one who, Slade believed,
was English.
Did that mean a third member of the party?
The only person who could have answered that question
satisfactorily was dead, the maid Maud Farling. She was
probably killed because she accidentally discovered that the
character of 'Butterick' was a disguise. The real Butterick
doubtless never had a chance to discover who killed him.
Two persons or three?
Slade couldn't make up his mind, and the annoying part
was that he had no additional means of determining this
numerical answer.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 167
The Red Doll might have a lover who had been brought
into the plot.
Who?
She had rung up Barry BirchalPs Paris number as soon as
she had successfully gone to earth with the gems. Could
Birchall be the mysterious third? But if so, how had he fitted
into the scheme? He had been in bed over the week-end with
a liver complaint.
He had an alibi. Even if he hadn't been in bed he was in
Paris, because he had rung up his sister and spoken to her.
His alibi was unassailable.
Or so it seemed.
Slade got up and lit his pipe. He began walking up and
down the central square of carpet in his office, like a jungle
animal confined to a cage. He was restive. He knew that
under the surface of all this that was floating in his mind
was the truth, concealed because of the cleverness of some
shrewd brain.
The trick had been pulled successfully. At least, so far.
Two murders had been committed, with probably only one
planned, Butterick's. The maid's had been forced upon the
murderer as a protective measure. But the diamonds had
been stolen, and got away. By luck largely, because Bill Peg-
well had almost upset the apple-cart.
He could hope to find no clue in the murder of Butterick.
That had been carefully planned. There was a gun, but it
was probably in the mud at the bottom of the Thames or the
Seine now. The murder of Maud Farling offered one clue.
The evidence of her fingernails. She had fought for her life
and her nails had marked her murderer.
Of the two men arrested, neither had been marked, and


168 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
one had had no opportunity to murder the girl. Reisenberg
had been scratched, and, significantly, on the back of the
left hand.
But there was another clue—the use of the Indian clubs.
That looked like a knowledge of Kurt Swensen's habits
and effects, and spite.
Spite against Swensen brought the pointer back opposite
Barry BirchalPs name.
Slade couldn't be sure that this line of reasoning was get-
ting him anywhere, but he felt that he had surveyed the
prospect of the case more closely than he had hitherto, and
he realized that only a visit to Paris would enable him to
put his mind at rest.
He went to the A.C.'s office, and explained what was in
his mind.
The A.C. was perturbed.
"But why waste time trying to prove the impossible is
the impossible, Slade?"
"I'm not so sure it is, sir," replied the chief of Department
X2. "This case is schemed to a pattern, and I think I can
discern some of the pattern. The woman, her brother, that
Paris 'phone call; they're all extra to the case we're engaged
on here. They don't join anywhere except as regards Swen-
sen."
"Those clubs?"
"Yes. I'm certain whoever murdered Maud Farling will
regret trying to throw the blame on Swensen, and he—or
she—will also be marked with scratch lines. I'm sure of
that."
"Well, Reisenberg?"
"He's still in the running, and if he makes a false step we
shall have him. But this Dunbar Court angle doesn't seem


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 169
his line of country. Not his nature to deal that way."
"That only leaves you what you can discover in Paris."
"I'm afraid so, sir."
"Very well, Slade, I've enough confidence in you to know
that it wouldn't be a wasted journey."
"Thank you, sir."
"But there remains Swensen. He's becoming a bit of a
problem. Did you know Lady Malverne's briefed Sir Vincent
Brugman?"
"I saw Sir Vincent as I left Lady Malverne's house. But
personally I think Swensen's safer where he is at the
moment."
"What d'you mean?"
The A.C. looked at the departmental chief sharply.
"Those clubs point to feeling against Swensen, bitter
feeling. No one would have gone out of his—or her—way
to use them unless Swensen was to be involved if they were
found. And think of what it means, not only taking a club
from his room, but putting back the one that crashed against
PegwelPs head. Swensen might be in danger if released."
"And therefore point the way to the murderer if the latter
made a move against him."
"But there's Mrs. Pegwell for that, sir. We don't want to
lay too many spoors on the ground. It would look suspicious
if suddenly Swensen were released—as well as Pegwell."
"Dammit, you're right, Slade. It's a devil of a case, how-
ever one looks at it."
"Could we hold Swensen safely until the end of the
week, sir?"
"Yes, I think so, Slade. Why?"
"The case might begin to work out by then if anything
comes of the Paris investigation."


17o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"I see." The pale eyes of the A.C. smiled. "So you're
going?"
"I think it would be advisable sir . . . before he recovers
from this attack of liver and disappears."
The smile disappeared from the A.C.'s pale, water-
coloured eyes.
"I agree, Slade," he said slowly. "Good hunting."


Chapter XVI
Leaving Clinton in charge of Department X2's handling
of the Malverne case, Slade flew to Paris by air-liner, and
was met at Le Bourget by Inspector Dulac of the Surete
Generale. It was some years since Slade had last seen Durac,
then a first-class sergeant. An extradition case involving the
capture and transportation of a Scots swindler had brought
the two detectives together. But Dulac had a long memory.
"It is good to see you again, my friend," he beamed at the
man from Scotland Yard. "Allow me to welcome you to
France. I hope your stay will not be too short."
"The present exchange rate wouldn't allow me to stay too
long," Slade smiled.
"Ah, I see you have not changed! But what is this case
you are engaged on? I learn that you are interested in
the movements of a certain Englishman living in Paris, a
M. Birchall."
"Movements or absence of movement," said Slade.
Dulac raised a puzzled face as he hailed a taxi.
"I do not understand, monsieur."
As the taxi raced them into Paris Slade explained in brief
outline the case upon which he was engaged and why he had
come to Paris. Dulac's dark eyes gleamed. His French imagi-
nation was roused by the peculiar problem Slade had set
himself.
"But this is most interesting!" he exclaimed, and sank his
voice. "You are attempting to prove the impossible is pos-
171


172 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
sible. That is excellent." More formally he added, "I am
sure you will succeed."
"I hope so, Dulac. Barry Birchall is a stumbling-block
that trips me every time I try to figure out the case from a
fresh angle."
The French detective nodded his head lugubriously, and
a carefully manicured finger touched his short dark mous-
tache. He presented a neat, rather dandy appearance, but
Slade knew from past experience that Dulac was a policeman
first and last. He was one of those men whom it is a mis-
take to judge only by their outward appearance.
"There have been reports in the Paris newspapers, of
course," he told Slade. "This Kurt Swensen is too well known
for his arrest not to be broadcast, as you say. And those
Tears of Death, a fortune in cold carbon . . . yes, the case
is most interesting. More, it is stimulating. But your personal
theory, my friend? Who do you think is the murderer and
thief?"
"As we say in England, Dulac, I'm sitting on the fence.
Every theory I've contrived conflicts with another—ulti-
mately, at any rate. That is why I had to come to Paris. I
felt that there was an even chance of discovering something
at this end that would perhaps point to—well, a fresh lead."
Dulac nodded again, and produced a cigarette-case and
matches.
"True," he murmured. "Well, I can tell you this, my
friend, the man we sent to the Rue de Savarin learned only
one thing, this M. Birchall had been confined to his room
and his bed. He learned that from the concierge, who stated
most positively that liver trouble had kept M. Birchall from
venturing outdoors. But, of course, that was only an in-
quiry."


174 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"I should like to call on Birchall. But first I'd like to ques-
tion the concierge and perhaps some neighbours in the next
apartments."
Dulac smiled.
"Truly a wise plan. Shall we depart?"
"I think so. It was an excellent lunch, and I"
"No, no!" Dulac waved an arm with determination. "It
was a little something, not much. What you call a snack. To-
night ... ah, that is another matter! To-night, my friend,
I shall set before you the finest diner in Paris, in all France.
I, Jean-Jacques Dulac, promise you."
Slade was not altogether cheered at the prospect, but he
smiled bravely.
"You are very thoughtful, Dulac."
"It takes no thought, my friend. Food and wine—they are
in my blood."
Slade lowered his glance to the Frenchman's slim waist,
and wondered how he performed the miracle. But he was
too polite to inquire.
They drove to the Rue de Savarin, an uninteresting thor-
oughfare in a middle-class residential district south of the
Rue Lafayette. The concierge at 34 bis was a small, short
man with a developing paunch. He smoked a pipe of de-
cidedly Teutonic appearance, and greeted his visitors with
suspicion until Dulac announced himself. Then wariness
crept into the man's manner, and he put his long pipe aside.
Slade and Dulac had agreed that it would be best for the
Frenchman to tackle the concierge and BirchalPs neighbours.
For some ten minutes the Englishman stood by listening
to a crackling fusillade of French. When Dulac had fired
what was apparently the last shot the French detective
turned to the Yard man.


178 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
land Yard. This is Inspector Dulac of the Surete. You have
no objection, I hope?"
"Not at all. Come in, gentlemen. I must admit I fail to
understand what reason there is for your visit, but perhaps
you will explain."
They were shown into a room with the window-shades
drawn, so that they were in a poor light.
Birchall nodded to the windows.
"I've had a bad liverish attack, and I find the sunlight
doesn't help matters. You don't mind the blinds being
drawn? I'm only just recovering, still under the doctor, as
a matter of fact."
"Not at all," said Slade, glancing at Dulac. The French-
man was staring with studied idleness round the room. "You
know your sister, Lady Malverne, has had a very valuable
necklace stolen?"
"Oh, so that's what you've come about! Well, Inspector,
I must say you are certainly thorough, but you've come a
long way for nothing if you think I know anything about it.
Lucie herself can tell you—probably has"—he shot a quick
glance at the English detective—"that I've warned her
against being careless with her jewels."
"Yes, she has told me that. On Friday evening you
'phoned her at Steyning Towers"
"Pardon me, Inspector, not Friday evening—Saturday."
There was a half-smile on the speaker's face. "I remember
distinctly, because it was only a few minutes afterwards that
this internal trouble started, and I had to send Adolphe—
the concierge, you know—for a doctor."
"Yes, Saturday evening," nodded Slade. "My mistake. Ac-
tually, Mr. Birchall, I was hoping that you would be able to


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 179
tell me something about a clever Frenchwoman known as
the Red Doll."
Slade cursed the poor light in the room. He could not be
sure whether or not the man had started at mention of the
woman's name.
"The Red Doll, Inspector? 'Fraid that means nothing to
me. Who is she?"
Was he fencing? Slade could not be sure.
"A crook, I believe. Inspector Dulac knows more about
her."
Dulac, appealed to, smiled charmingly.
"Very little about her, Monsieur Slade. But her brother,
Robert Deparis, he was a different proposition—for the
police of Paris."
Again Slade wished those window-shades had not been
drawn. Dulac, speaking casually, had caused the other to
start. Slade was almost certain of that. But in the poor light
the other's recovery had been well cloaked.
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Inspector Slade," said
Birchall, "but the Deparises, brother or sister, are no ac-
quaintances of mine—to my knowledge." He shrugged in
a gesture of mild disavowal. "One meets so many people in
a city like Paris who are not to be considered even chance
acquaintances. But why, may I ask, are you interested in
this woman, this Red Doll as you call her?"
Slade made up his mind in a hurry, and played a bold card.
"I believe she has the Malverne diamonds, Mr. Birchall."
Out of the corner of his eye Slade saw Dulac nod covert
approval.
Birchall sat very still.
"And you are anxious to find her, naturally, Inspector,"
he said.


18o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Naturally," repeated Slade.
"But why come to me?"
This time Slade played an ace.
"Because on the night of Saturday last she is known to
have put through a call to Paris."
"Well?"
There was a sudden tension in the atmosphere of the room.
In the thin yellow light men's glances travelled quickly,
searching. Slade, turning his glance from Birchall to Dulac,
saw the Frenchman playing with a button on his sleeve, but
he was staring at BirchalPs shoes. Slade looked in the same
direction. There was nothing out of place about those shoes.
"She called Abelard 7810, Mr. Birchall."
"Abelard 78 Why, good heavens, that's my num-
ber!"
Either Birchall was a marvellous actor or he was being
told something startling for the first time. He rose to his
feet quickly, and sat down again with the same quick, abrupt
movement of his body.
"Now you know why I rather expected you to know of
this Aimee Deparis," said Slade.
"But, Inspector, this is incredible! You must have made a
mistake"
"The exchange may have, Mr. Birchall. I can assure you
I have not."
"Yes, of course, that's what I mean. No call came through
to me late on Saturday night."
Dulac spoke.
"Are you quite sure, monsieur?" he asked softly. "M.
Paillon seems to remember hearing your 'phone ring about
one o'clock Sunday morning."


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 181
Slade wasn't sure whether Dulac was bluffing or whether
he had actually asked that question of the schoolmaster. But
it was a clever move on the French detective's part, and
showed that he was following every statement Birchall made.
"Sunday morning early," murmured Birchall, as though
thinking aloud. "Let me see now Oh, yes, I think that
was when Dr. Legrand rang me back to inquire if I was feel-
ing any better."
True or not, for the moment Birchall had saved himself—
until Legrand could be interviewed. But the tension in the
room could still be felt.
"Of course," murmured Dulac, "that would explain it,
M. Birchall. Yes, Dr. Legrand."
There was a faintly mocking note in the Frenchman's
tone. Slade saw the man seated opposite him squirm, and he
wondered what Dulac was doing. He knew the French de-
tective had all his countryman's intuition and imagination,
but he doubted very much if those qualities would help Du-
lac in dealing with an Englishman.
He had reason for such a doubt, he thought, when Birchall
took the bull by the horns.
"But I say, I must protest, Inspector Slade," he said. "Go-
ing to Paillon, I mean. It looks as though you came here ex-
pecting to find I'd got a tale ready concocted."
Again it was Dulac who replied.
"When one is dealing with a Deparis," he said, in the
same soft tone, "one has to take many precautions. Perhaps
Aimee and her brother Robert have put their heads to-
gether, M. Birchall, and conspired to make things awkward
for you to explain. Had you thought of that?"
"But I don't know the Deparises!" Birchall protested. "I


182 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
keep telling you that. How could they conspire against me
if I don't know them and they don't know me?"
"Ah, a riddle, monsieur! And the answer?" Dulac
shrugged. "Perhaps they do know you, although you don't
know them."
"What do you mean?"
Slade was certain that this time there was a note of strain
in the other's voice.
"I mean that I must really raise the blind of this window,
monsieur," said the French detective, rising.
"But I object. My liver"
Dulac took no notice. He was at the window, fumbling
with a knotted cord.
"I never did like this sort of window-shade," he said.
"One always has to fumble."
"Will you leave that cord alone?" cried Birchall.
Dulac continued fumbling, taking no notice of the other.
Slade sat rigid, wondering what on earth the French detec-
tive was trying to prove. If he wanted to see Birchall's face
more clearly, then surely
Slade's thought was suddenly diverted. Birchall had
grabbed the cord out of Dulac's hands. Slade, watching,
saw that the Frenchman made no effort to hold the cord.
But the next instant Dulac's left hand swung round, palm
flat and smote the other's face with a resounding smack.
"Nam d'une pipe!"
The other sprang back, snarling, his hand raised to where
the French detective's blow had fallen.
Dulac stood back. As by magic a snub-snouted automatic
had appeared in his hand. He spoke in rapid-fire French,
giving the other no chance to interrupt. Finally Slade saw


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS i85
Dulac and the Parisian police were making every effort to
uncover some further connexion of the Deparis brother and
sister. A plain-clothes man was left in the apartment at 34
bis Rue de Savarin. Search of the apartment had produced
nothing in the nature of a helpful clue. Apparently whoever
had been the brains behind the plot had wisely insisted that
no tangible clues that could aid the police in the event of
things slipping up should be kept.
There was no book with telephone numbers or addresses
in the apartment, and Dulac's search had been very thor-
ough.
Dulac had stormed and raved at the impassive Deparis,
but the man had remained unmoved. He had refused to say
to what apartment or cupboard that key belonged, and he
refused to make any statement involving himself or anyone
else.
Forced, in his own defence, to explain why he was living
in disguise in the Rue de Savarin in an apartment known to
be rented in the name of an Englishman, Barry Birchall, he
stated baldly that he was helping a friend, and would neither
enlarge that statement nor retract from it.
Slade reviewed these new facts as the 'plane sped towards
the white cliffs of Albion. They fitted, he saw, into the new
case he would have to construct. At the moment the most
discernible thread in the new pattern was Robert Deparis
himself.
Edward Bridgewater's testimony proved that Deparis was
in London on the evening of the Friday. On the Saturday
evening he was in Paris, disguised as Barry Birchall. . . . Or
was he? Had he gone to Paris after the diamonds had been
stolen, and, disguised as Birchall, allowed the Englishman to
go to England to contact his sister?


186 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
That was a fresh snag, early in the building of the new
case. In some way or other Slade would have to settle the
time of Deparis's leaving London and arriving in Paris. On
that depended everything. Conversely he would have to
prove the times of Birchall's leaving Paris and arriving in
England.
He had cleared a lot of ground, but there remained much
to be done.
Beginning with the hypothesis that Deparis had left Eng-
land late Friday night (that would not have been difficult,
he was seen in Croydon by Bridgewater), he and Birchall
must have exchanged positions, one gone to Paris when the
other came to London. Then Birchall and Aimee Deparis had
been in England to act together. Birchall had got from his
sister (prior to the previous Tuesday, when he was believed
to have returned to Paris, according to Mrs. Clammer) the
facts about her forthcoming deal with Reisenberg, and had
planned accordingly. He had realized that the insurance
company would be bound to send a detective to Steyning
Towers—perhaps he had inquired—and had resolved upon
a bold entry into the field. Kill the insurance company's de-
tective, take his part, and make a safe walk-out on Sunday.
He would have several hours' start before the insurance com-
pany discovered that their man had disappeared, and the
chances were that the body in the car in the lake would not
be found for weeks or months.
It was sheer bad luck for him that his half-sister had
dived into the lake that morning.
It was a bold plan, as Slade perceived it, yet sound enough
at bottom. Aimee Deparis would be in the grounds to receive
the necklace, and would be well away with it before the
police even realized that it was stolen.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 187
There point number two ran counter to the plan. Bill Peg-
well had happened on the scene. Birchall had made the most
of his opportunity. There was the opened safe, the necklace
in a cracksman's hand. A quick blow and
Slade paused.
There was another snag.
The Indian club! How did that work? It suggested that
whoever slugged Bill had been armed with the club—pre-
pared, in short—when he followed him into the room where
the safe was. Yet Birchall would not have known that Bill
would be there. Going to rob the safe himself, he would not
have taken a club, unless he had had some thought in mind
to involve Swensen. . . .
Slade paused again.
There might be something to that, he saw. There was bad
blood between the two men, Swensen and Birchall. The lat-
ter wanted to put some grit in the slipway of the Swede's
progress towards the altar with his half-sister and her late
husband's fortune. Murder would be a very effective grit to
use.
Perhaps at first Birchall had only considered involving
the Swede in the robbery, but the idea had grown into some-
thing else, more ugly, when he saw Bill Pegwell kneeling by
the open safe. Perhaps he had tried to murder Bill then, had
stolen the necklace, and had returned the club to the
Swede's trunk, knowing it would be searched. That would
not have been difficult. He knew Swensen, and his habits,
presumably, and it would not have been difficult for him to
have procured keys to the rooms at Steyning Towers. Quite
the reverse, it would have been childishly easy.
The case he was building up, constructing out of freshly
made theories, was becoming very, very possible, and it was,


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 189
needed to convince the critical mind that Swensen was not
guilty.
And only one point remained in Swensen's favour.
He had not been scratched by the girl's fingernails. If
Birchall bore the marks of her nails the case against him was
complete.
There was an outside chance that she had scratched some
one else, a member of the servant staff who would not own
up to the fact because of what such an action on the part
of the maid suggested.
Brooks . . . for instance . . .
Slade smiled. He saw that this new case was exacting.
Mathematical accuracy of fact was demanded if it was to
hold together. Find Aimee Deparis, he was sure, and it would
not be long before the rest of the facts and details fitted into
their proper niches, and the edifice would be complete, with
Birchall under arrest, awaiting trial.
And would that trial cause a sensation!
There was enough material in the case to make a whole
book. The human interests at play were unusual and equally
powerful. The plot was deep, sound, and would create a stir
throughout the civilized world when it was pieced together
in a law-court.
The 'plane flew across the wide acres of Sussex farmland,
passed over Surrey, and dropped over the air-field at Croy-
don. A Flying Squad car was waiting to rush Slade to the
Yard, where the Assistant-Commissioner was staying, refus-
ing, with a fine sense of public duty, to forsake a desk the
sight of which filled him with tired longing for a bed.
Small wonder, the A.C. had put in a fifteen-hour solid
day.


19o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Sit down, Slade," he said when the chief of Department
X2 entered his office, still with his overcoat on. "You've lost
no time getting in, I see. Well, I hear you've uncovered some-
thing. Will it take long?"
"I can let you have an outline in a quarter of an hour, sir."
"Good. Shoot, then. I'm listening."
Slade told the A.C. of the investigation in the house in
the Rue de Savarin, and of its outcome. He finished with an
account of the last activities of the Paris police before he
left Le Bourget for Croydon.
The A.C. was impressed. As Slade's story unfolded his
lassitude appeared to leave him. He leaned forward across
his desk and followed the detective's words closely.
"Excellent, Slade," he nodded when the chief of Depart-
ment X2 had completed his narrative. "So the hunch was
successful?"
"It was scarcely a hunch, sir. I felt that Paris might give
us another lead."
"I know, I know." The A.C. waved a hand. "But now
this woman, this Red Doll. How're you going to get on to
her? She'll take a bit of unearthing. You've nothing that
points to her whereabouts in this country—always suppos-
ing, of course, that she is in this country," he added.
He looked to Slade for an answer, and the latter could not
keep to himself the anxiety he felt on this very point.
"I'm afraid it's going to be a bit of a puzzle," he admitted.
"Her brother won't talk. The Paris police are working hard
to uncover something that will give us a lead, but I'm not
pinning much expectation to the outcome. This affair has
been handled pretty slickly. The only course I've got open
to me is to hammer again at Lady Malverne and Mrs. Clam-
mer. They might be able to tell me enough about Birchall to


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 191
give me a lead to where he is. Where he is the woman will be."
"Yes, that follows, of course. But it's a bit thin, isn't it,
Slade? What reason have you to suppose that they will be
able to give you any extra information of this kind?"
"None," said Slade, with honesty.
The A.C. rose and paced his office.
"If they fail you?"
"There's still Captain Furniss."
"And he's worth—what?"
"Very little, I'm afraid, sir."
"And you've no other line?"
"Only BirchalPs acquaintances—he must have had some.
Perhaps he was a member of a club. The man can't very
well disappear without leaving any trace."
"If he's as clever as what you've told me seems to prove,
Slade, I'm not so sure. Good at disguise, a quality that is
generally complementary to that of a good actor. He'll be
elusive—he has been, dammit!—and he'll give you a long
run. It'll be a question of who tires first unless he slips up.
And we've no reason for supposing that such an intelligent
criminal should slip up—obviously."
All of which was perfectly true, but to Slade, just re-
turned from an air-trip, following a tiring day's investi-
gation, very disheartening.
"You're thinking of Swensen, sir?" he asked, trying to
follow the trend of his superior's thoughts.
"I am, Slade. We're in the deuce of a position there. I
agreed to the arrest of this man, and now he's a liability. The
case against him is breaking down more and more with
each day passing. You thought it might be as well to keep
him until the end of the week. I agreed again. But I ask
you, Slade, does this case look like settling itself in that


192 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
short time? You've done a lot of valuable work. You've
gone far enough to show that this is one of those complicated
affairs with a clever brain controlling everything, almost,
that happens. Good enough. We can re-orientate our minds,
as it were, get to grips with a new sort of problem. But
confound it, we can't solve it in that time, not with two
principals unfound! And they might be anywhere in these
islands—anywhere."
Definitely, Slade thought, the A.C. was tired. He was
not usually so perturbed as he appeared now, or, rather, he
usually did not allow himself to appear so perturbed. A
different matter.
"I know Clinton has kept things covered this end," he
offered mildly.
The A.C. swung round, a slip of a smile on his thin mouth.
"I know I'm barking, Slade. Take no notice of it. I'm
nearly asleep on my feet, man. Your department's only
to be congratulated, I realize that, and I'm not complain-
ing, or even expecting you to do more than is human. But
you must realize our position. If Swensen is released with-
out something to cover his release, some other arrest or
stimulating development in this case—we're sunk. There'll
be another outcry in the Press. They'll want another purge,
and all that tripe; as though stirring us up with a politician's
ladle is going to help in solving a case like this Malverne
affair. No, Slade, what's beginning to get under my skin is
the urgency for an alternative to Swensen. We did the right
thing there. We had to arrest the man. Confound it, the
man would swing, even now, in an open court, on the case
we could build against him. You know that very well. Yet
that alternative has to be found. It's like asking you to
perform a miracle, I know. But keep hard at it, Slade. Don't


Chapter XVIII
Slade repaired to his own office in no easy frame of mind.
The glow of pleasurable anticipation occasioned by his
contemplation of the build-up of a new case during his
'plane trip had died, killed by the A.C's words of urgency
and gloom.
He found Clinton seated at his desk, slowly sorting a
pile of papers. The sergeant was half asleep.
"Well, Clinton, how's the fort been holding out?" he
asked, taking off his coat and dropping into his own chair.
The sergeant swung round.
"The A.C.'s getting het up," he confided.
Slade nodded.
"I know. I've just seen him. He looks half dead, and
sounds as though he won't last the night."
"Bad as that, eh?"
"Worse, but keep it to yourself. Farrar dug up any-
thing?"
"No. It may be good news, it may be bad. There's no
news from any of the ports, and they're all on the look-
out for her. Don't think, myself, she can slip through with-
out getting caught."
"She can if she's like some others in this case, Clinton."
The sergeant's eyes narrowed with interest.
"Which others?"
Slade told him what he had told the Assistant-Commis-
sioner, and when for the second time he completed the
194


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 195
recital he saw that the sergeant's square face had drawn as
long as was physiologically possible.
"So, Clinton," he concluded. "Birchall and Aimee.
They're a prize pair and in this together. We've got to
find 'em, that's the miracle the A.C. expects us to work.
Do you feel like performing a miracle?"
"I feel more like going into a trance," the sergeant con-
fessed mournfully.
"Wouldn't help at all." Slade knew he was being face-
tious, and he gave way to the feeling, wisely. Facetiousness
can be a balm to tired nerves. "BirchalPs the new fox, and
he's left us no trail. We're just running anyways across
country, and we may be miles out in our running, while the
fox just licks his paws and scampers back to his hide-out
without sweating from one pore. It's hardly decent, but
it's the sort of thing that friend Frenton down in Sussex
says makes our life interesting."
Clinton made no explosive remark as Slade had known
him to make on similar occasions in the past. Instead, he
sat with his square face resting in one brown hand, his eyes
dolefully regarding the ink-stained desk immediately below
his nose.
"I wonder," he said slowly, "if Birchall has a private
'plane?"
"You wonder what?"
Slade's interest was captured.
"A private 'plane," said Clinton, looking up. "I was
thinking about Barry Birchall to-day, while you were in
France, as a matter of fact"
"Why, especially?"
"I got thinking about those rumours concerning Sir
Julius Malverne's air-crash."


i96 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Go on," said Slade. "I can tell the bee's buzzing very
annoyingly in your bonnet, Clinton."
The sergeant smiled—at least, his face creased in an
expression that passed for a smile with him.
"And now, listening to what you had to say about this
development in the Rue de Savarin, it's suddenly struck
me—what if Birchall is an out-and-outer? I mean, he
wanted this necklace. All right. Suppose there was some-
thing fishy about that 'plane crash. As I said, I've been
thinking about it to-day, and I rang up the air-club to
which Sir Julius belonged, and I learned that Birchall
belonged to the same club, but that he left shortly after
the . . . accident."
Slade took out his pipe and filled it.
"That's interesting, Clinton—very. And you think it
ties up with what we know now?"
"It might. This is how it strikes me. He wanted that
necklace—Birchall. He plans to get it. He wanted Mal-
verne out of the way. He got him out. Did something to
his 'plane. I looked up the case. The police were never
called in. The air-ground people settled it as an accident
among themselves, but probably that was some hush-hush
stuff. You know."
Clinton's prose style was losing anything it had ever
had of elegance, but the man, like Slade himself, was tired.
That was obvious. He had remained at the office in case
something should turn up, and he had probably thought
himself well-nigh silly with the various facets of the case.
Mentally, he had gone roaming far afield to discover some-
thing new.
"Yes, I know, Clinton," Slade nodded. He felt a world
of sympathy for his sergeant. Clinton was a stout fellow,


198 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Having made his contribution, Clinton proceeded, like
most cautious individuals who are prone to be too cautious
in a moment of doubt, to retract from the effectiveness of
his statement by throwing doubt on its plausibility.
"Of course," he said, "it sounds all right. I saw that.
But it would be a devil of a lot of work for one man."
"Where do you get the one-man part of it?" asked Slade.
"We know Birchall's in with the Deparis couple. There may
be others. It's an organized affair. We've plain evidence of
that. As for his own part in the scheme, how much work
would be necessary to rig a 'plane so as to set it on fire
when it reaches a couple of thousand feet? Very little, with
tanks full of petrol," he added, answering his own question.
"Then what? Then the waiting while the widow recovers
from the shock—if recovery is necessary. After that the
lifting of the loot. No, Clinton, it was your suggestion.
Don't pull it to bits for no reason at all except that you made
it yourself. It stands up on its own feet."
"But if the crash wasn't an accident arranged before-
hand?" said Clinton, stabbing at a sheet of paper with a
pencil.
"Don't keep firing torpedoes, Clinton. One might strike
something. Heavens, we can't prove it one way or the other
at this stage. In fact, I'm not worrying about that. What
does concern me is the possibility of a new lead from the air-
club. You see?"
"You mean from that angle we may get a new lead about
Birchall?"
"Yes, of course. He's a flier. We weren't told that before.
It opens up new possibilities. It might explain the apparent
spiriting away of our unfound Red Doll. It means, in effect,


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 199
we've got to warn the Continent about a lone 'plane with
two passengers, a man and a woman."
"Which probably landed days ago," said the forthright
sergeant.
"There's one thing about you that warms my heart,
Clinton. You're never afraid to look on the gloomy side
of anything." Slade stirred the dottle in his pipe and struck
another match. "What if it did? Can one hide a 'plane by
putting it in one's pocket? A 'plane is a far more interest-
awakening vehicle than a car. There aren't so many in the
world, but what the flight of a stranger in the home brood
is noticed by some one. Not like a car in a car-park. That
'plane is somewhere, to be traced. If it isn't, then it was
set on fire, and a combustion of that sort will be remembered
for quite a while, especially when the tangled wreckage re-
veals that a 'plane has crashed. By the way, has there been
any notice in the papers during the past few days of a 'plane
crash anywhere?"
Clinton picked up the house-'phone and put the request
to another department.
"Yes," he said, dropping the receiver, "one, yesterday,
on a hill outside Paris."
"Paris—a hill?" Slade sat up. "Are there any hills out-
side Paris?"
"Sorry," said Clinton, with a straight face, "Paris in
Maine, U.S.A."
Slade slumped down again in his chair.
"Well, I don't think even as resourceful a person as
Birchall appears to be would fly the Atlantic, with the
Continent so conveniently near. Not unless he wanted a
lot of publicity. So we may presume that if he has a 'plane


2oo THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
it is still intact, and is either in this country or on the
Continent, Clinton"
"Or in the sea."
The sergeant offered the third alternative with no hope
in his voice.
"In which case the Malverne diamonds are probably
already adorning Neptune's trident. But somehow, Clinton,
I have a feeling that they aren't. A man who has done so
much to get them—and what they're worth—would take
precautions to disappoint Neptune, I think. What was the
air-club Sir Julius and Birchall both belonged to?"
"Tri-Wings. Their ground's out in Surrey, near Cater-
ham."
"We'll call there to-morrow, Clinton, for what the visit's
worth. I think we can consider this session closed. Nothing
at all turned up?"
"Nothing, except a continuous string of growls from
the A.C's office."
Clinton returned for a few short hours to the bosom of
his family, while Slade sought his bachelor's bed. The next
morning both were back at the Yard by half-past eight.
Slade had arrived first.
"I've already 'phoned the Tri-Wing ground," he greeted
Clinton. "They're expecting us. There's a club-house, with
a resident secretary. It's a pretty exclusive sort of place, I
understand."
They drove into Surrey in a fast police car. The secretary,
a tall, thin man with a decidedly weather-beaten look and
hairy hands, and a voice that for some reason made one
think he was about to burst into song, greeted them and
took them into the deserted lounge.
"Nothing wrong, I hope?" he asked anxiously. "The


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 205
"Perhaps. Left nothing in it, I suppose? Or in his locker
on the grounds?"
"Only an old pocket-wallet. I didn't bother to send it
after him because it was obviously a throw-out. Nothing
in it ... at least, nothing except a cutting from a news-
paper, a small advert."
"You still have it?"
"Somewhere." Myers smiled. "We never throw anything
away here."
"Could I see it?"
"Yes, of course. I'll see if it's still in the 'Found' cup-
board."
He was gone about six or seven minutes, and when he
returned he held in his hand a shabby morocco wallet.
"Here it is," he said, passing it to Slade.
The detective turned it over. There were no initials on
the outside. He opened it, and extracted a small cutting
from a newspaper. The cutting read:
OPPORTUNITY of earning £50. Services of first-class air pilot
required. Must be unmarried and unemployed. Apply, giving de-
tails age, experience, etc., to Box T512, Daily Signal.
"Mind if I keep this cutting and wallet, Mr. Myers?"
asked Slade. "I'll give you a formal receipt, of course."
"Why, no, there's no objection that I can see," said the
secretary, his facial expression revealing that he had tried
hard without success to find one.
"And you've heard nothing since of Birchall?" asked
Slade, as he passed a hastily written receipt to the club
secretary.
"Not a thing. Am I going to?" he queried shrewdly.


21o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
months—alters the case considerably, will you believe me?
It is the truth," he emphasized.
She sniffed.
"Well, I don't pretend to see where we're getting with
all this, but I'll accept what you say. I can't do otherwise.
You'd gain nothing by telling a lie, anyway," she added
shrewdly. "But what's the mystery about my seeing
him"
"No mystery. But you must realize that if some one
in Paris could imitate his voice sufficiently well to trick
his half-sister, that could also be done here, in London.
In short, you've heard from time to time in the past two
months of some one purporting to be Barry Birchall"
"Purporting! Why, this is absurd! Of course, it was
Barry."
"Did Lady Malverne see him?"
"No," she agreed, with less certainty.
"And you say you didn't?"
"No. But surely"
"Just a minute, Mrs. Clammer, please. I suggest that
you have no actual proof that Barry Birchall has been
'phoning his half-sister during these two months. If you
allow—I'm only suggesting it as a condition; proof will
be offered later, I assure you—if you allow that his voice
could be imitated, then you haven't any proof, have you?"
She saw the contention, and had to admit the point
Slade had made.
"That's true enough," she agreed, "but what's the mean-
ing of all this supposing and demand for proof? What are
you trying to do"
And then the answer, the only possible answer, flashed


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 211
with all the disturbing effect of fork lightning into her
troubled mind.
"Good heavens! You think Barry—did it!" she gasped.
Slade said nothing, and she continued staring at him,
emotional stress changing the expression in her eyes as the
colour of water under a cloudy sky is changed.
"You've broken down an—alibi," she muttered, paus-
ing before the word. "You've been hunting him. That's
why you questioned me at Steyning Towers. I see now.
The arrest of Kurt Swensen was a trick, a very subtle
trick," she sneered, "in order to allay"
Slade stopped her.
"Mrs. Clammer," he said, "I said a few moments ago
I made up my mind to speak to you more freely because
I thought you could help me. I didn't consider antagoniz-
ing you would help me. Grant me credit for that, at least."
It was a direct appeal to her intelligence, and the woman's
brain was shrewd, her wits sharp.
"Well," she retorted, "what have you come to prove?"
The emphasis given to the last word revealed clearly
that she still stood in the opposite camp.
"I think there's one person who can clear up this matter
definitely, once and for all," said Slade slowly. "I want
to clear it up."
She stared at him for a moment, long and hard.
"His sister?"
"No. I don't think a man of your nephew's type, Mrs.
Clammer, feeling as he does, would have confided much to
his sister. Do you, frankly?"
"I don't. But if you think he made a confidante of his
dear Aunt Judith you're vastly mistaken. Barry hadn't


2i2 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
any more use for me than I have for my grandmother's
bustle. His friends?" She moved her shoulders in a slight
wriggle. "Has he any? Does Barry's type ever get real
friends? You should be able to answer that yourself, In-
spector."
"No, I don't think a mere friend would be able to
help me."
The detective's tone conveyed the impression that he
knew definitely who would.
She took him up.
"A woman, eh?"
"I think so," nodded Slade. "Can you help me?"
"Would he tell me about his women friends?"
"Possibly not, but you would know."
She looked startled.
"What makes you so sure?"
"I think Sir Julius would have talked, perhaps very
pointedly, about any woman his brother-in-law was rather
friendly with. And there was one. I've found out that
much."
"You've found out a very great deal, Inspector. You
mean Susie?"
"Yes, Susie. I confess, though, I don't know her surname.
But I'm rather anxious to find her. I want her full name and
address."
"You sound like a Post Office official. Full name and
address! Susie Knight's her name, if you must know.
Though I couldn't have told you it a month ago."
"How was that?"
This simple question appeared to exasperate her.
"Must I explain every little why and wherefore?"


214 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
Did that mean that the affair at Steyning Towers had
been planned then?
Whatever it meant, it was clear to Slade that this girl
would have some real information to give. He turned to
Mrs. Clammer again.
"Did she say why she thought you should give her the
money?"
"Naturally. She said she could send Barry to prison.
He had left her, after using up her money, had promised
to marry her and walked out on her. I soon showed her
what her tale was worth. It was transparent. She thought
to panic me into giving her money. She had nothing at
all with which to frighten me. Just a bright girl with an
idea that was not so very bright after all. She was smart,
and took the chance. It just didn't come off."
What did this mean? Had the girl decided not to tell
what she knew in face of her reception? Had Mrs. Clam-
mer's attitude suddenly scared her?
There were a number of possible explanations to account
for the girl's retreat in face of Mrs. Clammer's opposition.
Mrs. Clammer was watching him closely.
"Did you get her address?" he asked.
She opened her hands and let them fall against her thin
thighs.
"Dear me, you'd be a champion at parlour games, In-
spector. You've always got a fresh question ready. Doesn't
anything ever stump you?"
"Sometimes. Ladies who have wayward nephews"
Slade stopped. Her glance was very direct, but the
corners of her mouth twitched.
"Yes, that's a score off me, Inspector." She sounded


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 217
ment, for she said, quickly, "You don't imagine, surely, In-
spector, that Kurt could"
Slade shook his head.
"I've been to Caterham this morning, and I'm certain
there's no need to reopen that affair now."
"Thank God!" she murmured devoutly. "There've been
enough rumours about that accident. And if the fools—the
malicious fools," she added vindictively, "would only stop
to find the facts they would realize that Kurt Swensen does
not fly."
"Does one have to be able to fly to tamper with a machine
that's on the ground?" asked Slade mildly.
She made a clucking sound.
"You're impossible, you really are," she said irritably.
"You annoy me, Inspector."
1 m sorry.
"You're nothing of the sort. But that's neither here nor
there. The point is what you've said has disturbed me.
You're right; you know you are and I know you are; and
that only makes the matter worse."
"Why, did Sir Julius dislike Mr. Swensen during the
short time he knew him?"
"Julius was not the man to show his likes or dislikes,"
she countered, then added, after a thoughtful pause, "ex-
cept to Lucie."
"I'd like to ask a more personal question, Mrs. Clammer,"
said the Yard man.
"Well, Inspector, I don't think I should be able to stop
you. I'm certain you're used to riding roughshod over
people's feelings."
"I must apologize if I have given you that impression. I
didn't want to"


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 219
"As a husband?"
She shook a finger.
"Now, Inspector, play fair. That's bringing Kurt Swen-
sen into the picture, and I'm not going to do that. No, I
won't do that," she added, with force.
Slade saw that he had obtained as much of her confidence
as he could expect, in the circumstances, and, having been
more successful than he had hoped with his questioning, he
did not feel that it would be wise to continue his visit past
its period of usefulness.
He rose.
"You've been very helpful, Mrs. Clammer."
"I'm not altogether glad to hear it, Inspector," she said
bluntly, and walked with him into the hall. As he paused,
waiting for the lift, she said, "Do you expect any sudden
development . . . soon?"
Slade looked at her, his mouth compressed.
"Yes, Mrs. Clammer," he said, "a very sudden develop-
ment, and very soon."
As the lift whirred him downwards he caught a last
glimpse of her standing above him, staring into space.


222 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"No, we had a row. He left me flat."
"And is that why you went round to see his aunt?"
Her fury boiled again.
"So that old"
But she didn't get far. The Yard man stopped her with a
gesture, she realized she would do well to obey. There was
something definitely perturbing about these two men from
Scotland Yard, something that upset her mind and rocked
her careful and studied poise.
"All right, you saw her," she muttered. "What of it?
You've nothing on me."
Slade was irritated by that feeling that she was on her
guard, prepared not to reveal . . . something. He decided
upon a bold bluff. He felt it would be the only measure
likely to succeed with such a woman, who obviously knew
her way about.
"Miss Knight, perhaps you don't understand one thing.
I'm investigating the case of the missing Malverne dia-
monds. There are two murders in that case, and a lot of
explanations are due. I think you could help us a lot."
"You—you think . . ." She broke off, panic in her
wide, mercenary eyes. "I don't know anything about the—
the diamonds."
The hidden suggestion in Slade's words had evidently
shaken her more than she cared for them to see.
"I'm not suggesting you do, Miss Knight. But I'll tell you
that what you could tell us, in turn, about a certain in-
dividual connected with this case may be very important.
We want that explanation."
"You mean Barry?"
"Yes, Barry Birchall."
She sat still for some moments, then lit a cigarette. She


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 223
got up, paced the room, stared for several seconds at the
other door, then came back and sat down again.
"What do you want to know?" she asked. "You must
realize that this won't be anything but . . . painful for
me.
She cleverly inserted a slight sob, to give the words
pathos. The effort was wasted.
Clinton grinned openly.
"You say you saw him two months ago, and haven't seen
him since?"
"That's right."
"You quarrelled?"
"Yes."
"About what?"
"Well, he was getting tired of me, if you must know,"
she said savagely, but she overdid it.
"He just walked out of your life, as they say in the
magazines?"
"Yes."
"In spite of the fact that he gave up flying for you, sold
his 'plane, only two months—at most three months—before
that?"
Slade's knowledge was disturbing.
"He said that?"
"That was the excuse he gave at the air-club."
"Then it was a lie!" she said heatedly, caution, for the
moment, forgotten in a fresh blaze of anger. "I remember
the day he told the secretary—what was his name, Myers—
filleted sort of fish; never did take to him—told him he was
resigning from the club. I remember distinctly. It was the
day he was chuckling about a fellow called Meredith."
"Who was Meredith?"


2i6 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"I daren't," she said. "It would mean . . ."
She choked.
"You've been threatened?"
She nodded in short jerks.
"Your life?"
"Yes," she managed to get out.
"Miss Knight," said Slade, "I think you are in an un-
fortunate position. You've got to make a choice. I should
advise you to confide in the police. You must realize that,
knowing what I do now, I couldn't let you leave on that
journey to—Cape Town, was it?"
She stared at him, finding it difficult to make up her mind.
"Very well," she said at last. "It means my losing a nice
packet of five hundred pounds, but in a way I'll be glad to
get it off my chest."
"I think you'd be wise. Take your time. Afterwards I
shall want you to make a statement, of course."
She appeared to consider this; then began:
"I didn't quarrel with Barry. He disappeared. He said
what he knew about that man Meredith, who answered an
advertisement in a newspaper, would make his fortune, and
the idea seemed to amuse him. I don't mean getting the
money amused him. I mean the idea of getting it just that
way. Anyway, as I told you, he disappeared. I didn't hear
anything for some weeks. Then one day I received a visit
from a red-haired woman, who spoke with a slight foreign
accent."
Slade glanced at Clinton; the sergeant was sitting forward
in his chair, trying to visualize every possibility this startling
new information offered for survey.
"She had a copy of a Sussex paper with her. I don't re-


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 227
member the date or the name of the paper, even. But it gave
in a few words what you showed me just now, the fact that
the body of a man had been washed up on the South Coast,
and it mentioned the birthmark. As soon as I saw about the
birthmark I began to cry. She stood over me and said, 'So
you could identify him?' I said, "That's Barry Birchall. We've
been living together for nearly a year. I can't be mistaken.'
Then she laughed, and said I could—very easily. I could be
so mistaken that my life wouldn't be worth a pair of cheap
stockings. I got afraid, and asked what she wanted. She said
she'd come to warn me to keep my mouth shut. The episode
hadn't got into the London papers, and the chances are the
body would be buried and forgotten—if I kept quiet. That
seemed to be what she wanted. She said, further, that if I
would agree to what she had to say I'd have nothing to
worry about."
She paused.
"What did she say?" asked Slade.
"She said I would have to agree to leave the country if
they told me to."
"They?"
"Yes, she kept saying they."
"Meantime they would leave you alone, unless you went
to the police. That the idea?"
"Yes, and she told me not to move or try to get away,
because I should be found, and I'd regret the trouble I had
caused. I was mighty scared, I can tell you. But if they
told me to leave the country, I was to go where they had
arranged, and I should be given five hundred pounds."
"Was this decision sudden?"
"Yes. Early this morning the red-haired woman came
again. She had tickets and labels for the journey to South


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 229
"No, except that I'm to go to Regent Hotel in South-
ampton."
"Now, Miss Knight," said Slade, "I want to ask you
something very serious. You've no wish to find yourself
arrested as an accessory to murder, have you?"
She was cowed. This sober question completed her defeat.
"You—you think that?" she muttered.
"I think by agreeing to run away in this fashion, and
saying nothing to the police of what you know about the
body washed up near Eastbourne, you've placed yourself
in a difficult position."
"But five hundred pounds"
Slade lost what little sympathy he had for her. She was
hard to the core. Money and her own security counted first
in her mind.
"Five hundred pounds as against five years in gaol," he
told her crisply.
She flinched, looked at her manicured hands, and whis-
pered, "No—not that."
Clinton made a sound of disgust at this display. She did
not appear to have heard.
"There's one way you can get yourself out of a mess, Miss
Knight."
"How?"
"Go to Waterloo to-night, meet this woman, as arranged,
and take the money, but do it so that we can make an
arrest. The rest is up to us."
"Could I go on to Southampton then?" she asked.
Slade shook his head.
"No, definitely not. You'll be an important witness for
the Crown, Miss Knight. There will be a lot of witnesses in
this case, but few more important than you."


23o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"What of the threat to kill me?"
"You'll get plenty of protection, I can promise you that."
She considered the prospect.
"If I don't agree?"
Slade smiled.
"Then we arrest you now."
"Arrest me now "She stared at him. A broken laugh
spilled from her very red mouth. "You don't leave me any
option."
"I do. Voluntary co-operation or arrest. You've got the
choice."
"You call that a choice?"
"You're lucky to have it."
"All right," she said irritably, "I kick in. I'll do this job,
but what about the five hundred I get from the red-head?"
"We'll decide about that later. Anyway, it's not my busi-
ness, and the money will be wanted as evidence later on.
Perhaps the notes can be traced."
"You think of everything," she sneered.
Slade got up. "You've a 'phone here, Miss Knight?"
he asked, ignoring the gibe.
"Yes, by the bed."
Slade went into the bedroom, and closed the door, so that
his conversation could not be overheard. He rang the Yard
and asked to have a plain-clothes policewoman sent to the
flat in Islington. He picked up the travel tickets on the
dressing-table, read the name of the booking-agents and the
number, and passed the information over the 'phone to his
own department. An independent effort would be made to
check up on the person who had bought the ticket.
He went back to the outer room.


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 231
"You've thought of nothing else to tell me, Miss Knight?"
he asked.
The woman's savage mood had returned.
"Yes—get out and leave me alone."
"I shall, in about twenty minutes. I'm having a plain-
clothes woman stop with you ... in case," he added sig-
nificantly.
"What about that statement you want?"
"We'll let that wait till the red-haired woman has been
arrested. You can add all that voluntary assistance to the
statement. It'll help you."
"Help me! I like that! I've done nothing wrong. You
can't start that bluster with me, Inspector, and expect to
get away with it."
Slade didn't argue. The woman annoyed him, and the
strain of fencing with her was tiring. She was the bludgeon-
ing type of witness who always returned to the same series
of indignant questions.
Both men were thankful when the policewoman in plain
clothes arrived and took over. Before he left Slade gave her
implicit instructions out of hearing of the now moody Susie,
and when he left with Clinton he was assured that those
instructions would be carried out.
"Clinton, we're closing up fast, and some one's going to
get a big surprise," he said as the two Yard men left Pompa-
dour Terrace.
"Big surprise!" grunted the sergeant. "I'm past being
surprised in this case. You arrive back hot-foot from Paris
with a new case all lined up. BirchalPs our man. You've
broken his alibi, you've got a copper-bottomed motive, the
whole case is watertight against him, even to the clubs


232 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
found in the Swede's trunk, both murders, and the stealing
of the diamonds. Then Birchall has to turn up as a six-weeks'-
old corpse. Probably older. Depends how long he'd been in
the water. It may be good detective work, but I'm hanged
if it's satisfactory. It's made a monkey out of one of the
finest built-up cases I've seen. It would have been dollars to
doughnuts that Birchall would have swung when that case
was brought into court. Swensen was in it up to his neck,
as we made out his case. But Birchall was already gallows
cold." The sergeant stopped, stared straight at Slade, and de-
manded, "Who the devil is the murderer now? That red-
head?"
"I don't think so," smiled Slade. "She's been useful, but
that's all."
"Don't tell me we're going to swing back to Maxie
Reisenberg or Pegwell?"
"You'll see," said Slade, with the same knowing smile.
"Well," snorted Clinton, "there's only Captain Furniss
left among the men in the case. I swear a woman couldn't
have done it all."
"Aren't you forgetting the bogus Butterick?" said Slade.
"No, because there's this Robert Deparis."
"Who was in Paris at the time, Clinton."
"Oh, hell!" cried Clinton. "This is just lunacy. There's
nobody left. The way this adds up there could not have
been a bogus Butterick, yet I saw him with my own eyes.
Where am I wrong?"
"Nowhere. You've just not taken something into con-
sideration, Clinton."
"Something or some one?" queried the sergeant astutely.
"Something."
"Well, what's that?"


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 235
till midnight across the platform of a large railway
terminus.
Slowly the hands of the large clock reached towards
seven-forty-five. At a minute past the quarter-hour a taxi
drew to a halt by the kerb, and a red-haired woman wearing
dark glasses alighted, paid off the driver, and walked into
the station. Before the taxi could take its place at the rear
of the cab-rank a detective had sprung on to the running-
board and was asking the driver questions.
After answering, the driver obediently returned his cab
to the kerb and waited, the detective seated in the darkened
interior.
The curtain had been rung up on the drama.
The red-haired woman with dark glasses walked towards
the women's cloak-room, hesitated, then crossed towards
the coach. Again she diverted her direction, only to turn
once more, and finally to approach the waiting Susie Knight.
"So you kept your word? Good. Here is the money," she
said, "and remember—not a word if you value your life."
Behind the dark glasses keen eyes peered into Susie
Knight's face.
"You understand?"
"Yes," murmured Susie, in a voice scarcely above a
whisper.
She opened her handbag and pushed the roll of paper
money inside.
Slade, unobserved by the red-haired woman, had seen the
money change hands. Good enough. He pulled a handker-
chief from his breast-pocket, and the policewoman and two
plain-clothes men converged on the red-haired woman.
It was all done with dispatch, neatly, without fuss. She
was hustled off the platform while the man from the south-


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 237
They mounted to a wide landing. A door was ajar, and
through the opening a light was reflected.
A man's voice called in French, "That you, Aimee?
Everything all right?"
"Come on," whispered Slade.
The two Yard men pushed themselves into the room, and
Clinton shut the door and placed his back to it.
At a desk sat a man with pale face, a pair of spectacles
bridging his nose, his thinning hair brushed straight back
from his high forehead.
Clinton frowned. There was something familiar about the
man, but he could not say what it was. The man rose, as
Slade advanced, his fingers brushing the top of the desk.
"Ah!" he said, and looked long and piercingly at the
chief of Department X2. "Then something has miscarried?"
"Aimee Deparis has been taken to the Yard," Slade in-
formed the man. "I have come to"
"Take me?" interrupted the other gently.
There was a slight smile on his mobile lips. He did not
seem in the least perturbed at this invasion, unexpected as
it must have been.
"Exactly," nodded the detective.
'"And you'll arrest me for the purloining of the necklace
known as the Tears of Death?"
There was mockery, leaping mockery, in the measured
tones.
"No," said Slade.
Clinton stared. He was lost in this polite parley of words.
What was Slade's game? He could see that his chief was
wary, eyes and body alert. What was Slade waiting for?
"Of course, I forgot," smiled the man. "You can hardly


24o THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
from his pocket, but the man was between the wall and
Slade. To have fired would have risked hitting Slade.
The next moment the room was plunged into darkness,
as the man's foot caught in a coil of electric flex and jerked
the plug of the lamp from a wall-socket. Clinton bounded
forward, collided with Slade, and threw him off balance.
Before the sergeant could reach the Window the man had
hurled himself through it, on to a stone balcony.
Clinton clambered on to the balcony in time to see a
pair of white hands release their grasp of the stone rail, as
the body of the man merged with the darkness of a creeper
spreading its arms against the wall of the house.
"Quick!" shouted Slade, a step behind his assistant.
"Shoot!"
Clinton's gun bellowed, but they heard the bullet smack
against stone.
Slade fired, an instant too late, for as the bullet tore
through the night a laugh of triumph floated up to them.
The two Yard men turned and raced down the stairs to the
ground floor, burst along the corridor, and threw themselves
across a tiny kitchen and out into a small garden full of
shadows.
"He can't be far, and the back's covered," said Slade.
"Keep under that wall, Clinton. I'll take the other. He's
desperate, man, so take no chances."
Scarcely had they separated, however, than a shot rang
out from the end of the garden, followed by another.
Windows in neighbouring houses were thrown up, and
an excited babble of voices rose.
Slade was aware of a figure jumping down upon him
from a wall. He tried to throw himself aside, but his
manoeuvre was only partially successful. A fist caught


242 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"He's got a sting," said Slade, "and he's desperate. Don't
take chances."
In the shadows thrown by the trees lining the other
side of the street the fugitive was, for a moment, safe.
Slade took a whistle from his pocket and blew three short
blasts. An answering blast came from each end of the
street. A minute later the two police cars, headlights blaz-
ing, commenced to crawl towards each other. The twin
ribbons of light illuminated the entire street, swept away
the shadows from the opposite side, and revealed a figure
lying on its stomach under one of the trees.
Clinton threw a shot high.
The other was not wasting his fire. He did not reply.
But when the cars were about twenty yards away he
suddenly sprang upright, and jumped. With a lithe bound
his hands reached a low branch; a twist of the whirling
legs, and he was drawing himself up into shadow once
more.
The Yard men tried a couple of exploring shots. They
flew wide. Then Slade realized what the other's move
meant. He would jump for the wall that bounded the backs
of the houses in the next street; for the mews had only one
row of houses facing directly into it.
"Snipe the wall!" he called, and ran into the roadway as
the cars drew level.
A shot from the man in the tree put out a headlamp of
one car. A plain-clothes man in the car replied, but the
reply only drew a low laugh, followed by a mocking call.
"Not yet, Inspector. You're going to have a long run
for your money. I hope you're in condition."
A dark shape curved through the space between the
tree and the wall. As it dropped Slade's automatic barked.


Chapter XXII
At a later hour that night Slade sat in the Assistant-
Commissioner's office. The tired look that had been so
apparent on the face of the latter when last Slade had seen
him, barely twenty-four hours before, was gone, replaced
by an expression of eager anticipation.
"Well, I'll say one thing, Slade, you've upset a lot of
apple-carts, but you finished the case within the week.
In short, you've done the miracle. But how still defeats
me. I follow the general lines, of course, but you must
have hit on the solution all at once, I should say."
The words were equivalent to a question.
"Scarcely," admitted Slade. "When I got that infor-
mation from Mrs. Clammer about the birthmark I checked
up the files, and found the circular about the body washed
up on the South Coast. Actually, I had to shake the truth
out of the Knight woman before I could be sure. I faced
her with the circular. It was a long shot, but it hit the mark
—well, perhaps not in the centre, but certainly a glancing
hit."
"I should call it a bull's-eye if I were responsible,"
smiled the A.C., nodding approval. "Good bit of work that.
Shows what routine can do."
The A.C. was strong on routine.
"Then I suppose you found you had to substitute some
oneforBirchall?"
"Yes. It was a bit of a problem, but there was one
piece over."


246 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"I can guess that. The advert you found in the wallet."
"That's right, sir. The Knight woman's mention of a
certain Meredith gave me a wider scope there. I was certain
the secretary of the Tri-Wing Aero Club had been in
trouble when talking about Sir Julius's crash. I saw then
the pattern beginning to clear itself. Sir Julius had hired
an unknown unemployed airman, sent him up in a rigged
machine, and that was the supposed end of Sir Julius Mal-
verne."
"And, incidentally, the beginning of it all?"
"Well, not exactly. You know of the egotistic streak
in him. It was responsible for that confession he made before
he died. I think it had another outlet. He married a pretty
woman, and found her unresponsive. Actually I believe
she married him when the man she really loved went off
somewhere—in Africa, I think it was—and was killed. He
caught her on the rebound, as it were; and the marriage
wasn't a success."
"Do you think he was a sadist?"
"Not as the term is understood to-day. But he was a
very successful business man. He had a strong, positive
character, and I should say he was considerably piqued when
he found he had married an intelligent woman who would
not look up to him as the household god. For the first time
in his life he was made to realize that, in some measure, he
fell short. That was dangerous to his pride. I should say he
became furtive, watchful, and when Kurt Swensen ap-
peared on the scene in Switzerland, and engaged the atten-
tion of Lady Malverne, he was embittered. I think, to
understand Sir Julius fully, one must appreciate the other
peculiar streak in his nature, complementary to his egotism


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 247
—I mean, his self-sufficiency. It was responsible for his
interest in precious gems. He didn't want them for them-
selves. They were locked in a bank. He wanted them for
the sense of possession they gave him, a feeling that he
had more than other men—yes, I should say he was assuredly
acquisitive, in that way. They gave him a strange sensation
of deep possession. With his millions, his gems, his big
business, he was complete, sufficient to himself. Only his
wife didn't quite fit in with this mental picture of himself.
He knew she did not love him, and lack of love meant to
him lack of possession. That another man should step in and
take what he considered rightfully his upset his mental
balance. He saw that, if he were off the scene, more than
friendship might ripen between his wife and Swensen. So
he began to plan a scheme that must have given him a
great deal of perverted pleasure. He saw himself officially
mourned and buried, Swensen married to his wife, and
then himself reappearing and claiming what by law was
his."
"You've dug deep, Slade. Go on."
"But there was a snag. Barry Birchall found out about
Meredith, and had to be put out of the way."
"Just a minute, Slade. How did you get Meredith's
Christian name?"
"From the Daily Signal. He had been advertising on his
own for a job, and when he got the one Malverne offered
he wrote to the paper explaining why he wanted to cancel
the future adverts he'd paid for."
"And do you mean to say those dunderheads didn't put
two and two together when the crash occurred."
"Oh, he didn't say who had employed him. He just


248 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
said he had got the job advertised. They had no track of
who put that particular advert in the paper. It was paid
for in cash, and only appeared once."
"Then how the devil do you suppose Birchall found out
the truth?"
"That I can only guess. Probably he saw Meredith on
the ground with Sir Julius. Or he may have seen Sir Julius
after the crash. There might be any one of half a dozen
explanations of that."
"Yes, I suppose you're right. It's a moot point, anyway.
Go on with your own account, Slade."
"Well, Birchall did find out, and thought to levy quite
a sum from his brother-in-law. He was promptly put out
of the way. Sir Julius had got in touch with the Deparis
pair—as he says in the confession, he'd know them a long
while, and had used them several times when putting over
a big business bluff—and he knew they would do what he
wanted if the price was sufficiently high. Perhaps he had
something on them. I don't know. However, with their
help Birchall was got rid of, and Robert Deparis, a quite
clever character actor, took on the role of the murdered
man. The fact that Barry Birchall had quarrelled with
Swensen helped this smart piece of duplicity; but there was
another fly in the ointment."
"Susie Knight, of course."
"Yes. Sir Julius knew of her. Must have seen her at the
air-club lots of times. When BirchalPs body was washed
ashore he sent Aimee round to make sure there was not
going to be a leak. How effective she was you know. Then,
in the middle of this situation, which had developed on its
own, as it were, and had not been originally planned by


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 249
Sir Julius, came the announcement of Lady Malverne's
decision to sell the Tears of Death.
"That made the man who had bought them frantic.
What could he do? Appear, and spoil his original plot for
which he had already done so much, gone so far? Or lie
low and let them be sold? Lady Malverne's decision to have
the necklace brought to Steyning Towers gave him his
greatest idea.
"Wouldn't a better plan be to have Swensen charged with
theft of the necklace and murder? There would be the
trial, the agony of cross-examination. That, surely, would
be a marvellous personal triumph. And perhaps he could
step into the picture then, and add the last ounce to his
wife's humiliation."
"Good Lord, Slade, this sounds like the concoction of a
madman's brain!"
The A.C. was sitting upright in his chair, his pale eyes
narrowed.
Slade shrugged.
"I'm only attempting to give some sort of explanation
for the confession he made. The case needs a lot of filling
in, and the filling in can be done only when one understands
fully what activated Malverne. He had waited and waited,
was tired of waiting, and seized a fresh chance to attain the
object he sought."
"M'yes, that's reasonable enough. Go on, man."
"He had to keep Barry Birchall out of the affair as a
suspect. Swensen, you see, had to stand out clearly in the
minds of the police. So the dead Birchall was given what
he thought was a perfect alibi."
"The 'phone call from Paris?"


250 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
"Yes. Deparis was here in England, ostensibly as Birchall,
until the Tuesday. Actually he was here on the Friday
night. Probably he was out of funds. But he went through
with the deception, and did it remarkably well. He and his
sister are both excellent linguists. That made the bold
scheme possible."
"Not so bold, Slade, when you come to consider. A check
with the exchange should have satisfied us regarding that
call. It was Mrs. Pegwell who was directly responsible for
the Paris lead, wasn't it?"
"Yes. There Malverne was out of luck. Reisenberg was
hated by Bill Pegwell, and Malverne, in Steyning Towers
as the insurance company's detective, must have had a
shock when he went to 'steal' his own diamonds to find
a cracksman fumbling at the door of the room. But his
facile brain, always quick to adapt a situation to his own
advantage, saw how to transform this serious obstacle to
good use. He crept to Swensen's room, got the club, and
came back while Pegwell was at the safe. The rest we know."
There was a pause, broken by the A.C., who said, "That
killing of Butterick was ruthless."
"True, but necessary to his plan," Slade pointed out.
"Obviously he knew of the arrangements made with the
insurance company, and he did not find it difficult to
intercept Butterick. He knew the grounds of Steyning
Towers, just where to run the car through the hedge, into
the lake. I'll give him credit for a clever plan. The fact
that he had had to kill Birchall made the killing of Butterick
easier. He had a kind of unmoral justification, if you under-
stand me."
"I think I do. But what of the murder of the maid?"
"She must have stepped into his room when his disguise


THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS 251
was off. There was no alternative, if he wished to save
his neck. He killed her, choked her into unconsciousness,
then went for another club. You see, that constant vein of
hatred against Swensen makes a uniform pattern through-
out the entire case. The maid's murder was the second that
was forced upon him, the other being Birchall's, of course.
He killed Butterick not because he had to, but because the
murder of the insurance detective would provide himself
with a role to play. It was a means to an end."
"I still can't help thinking, Slade, that it was terribly
risky, going into his own household in that disguise. I can't
imagine how the man could hope to get away with it. Some
mannerism would betray him to the servants or his wife.
The whole time he was there he was open to self-betrayal."
"Yes, sir, I know that's how it would appear to an on-
looker, as it were." Slade hesitated, choosing his words with
care. "But speaking from my own experience of the bogus
Butterick, I should say there was actually very little danger.
He was clever enough to foresee that."
"How do you mean, very little danger?"
"Well, he had changed his colouring and facial appear-
ance. He appeared as a paid servant of a company, and was
accepted as such, so that no one gave him much attention.
He had only to keep his mouth shut—which he did effec-
tively—and keep out of people's way for just over twelve
hours, and the whole thing could be written off the slate."
"I begin to see what you mean. His role of detective was
protection in itself."
"Yes. I took him as a sort of business necessity, and gave
him little if any attention. The rest of the household ignored
him. He was wise enough to cut a pathetic figure when the
necklace was stolen, mumble about losing his job. That went


252 THE CASE OF THE MALVERNE DIAMONDS
down." Slade laughed harshly. "Yes, he took me in com-
pletely. Everything went off as planned. The 'phone call
came through. That put Birchall out of our minds. Aimee
got away with the necklace he managed to pass to her. Two
unaccountable things happened to wreck the scheme, how-
ever. Tessa Pegwell was waiting for her husband, and
pugnaciously followed Aimee. That, for us, was pure luck."
"You deserved a bit, Slade," smiled the A.C., "and in
the ordinary course of things could reasonably expect a
certain amount in such a case, one where the interests were
very involved and overlapped at times."
This sounded like a masked compliment. Slade did not
try to take off the mask.
"The other unaccountable happening," he went on, "was
Lady Malverne's finding the submerged car, with the body.
That was real bad luck for Sir Julius. Had that body not
been found we might have been still searching for the real
Butterick, a man who had found temptation too much for
him."
"Just a moment, Slade." The A.C.'s eyes were twin-
kling. "Haven't you bowled your own argument out mid-
dle stump?"
"How do you mean, sir?" asked Slade, puzzled.
"Well, if Malverne had gone to all the trouble of hav-
ing Robert Deparis act the part of the dead Birchall, with
a faked alibi, so as to keep our attention centred on Swensen,
not let it wander to the mercurial Barry, why should he
arrange a plan that would have sent us seeking for Butterick?
That would havetaken our attention from Swensen."
Slade nodded.
"Yes, I agree. So far as the stealing of the diamonds
was concerned. Although he may have had a plan that









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