The Viceroy's Protegé; Or, A Prince of SwindlersGuy Newell Boothby


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5.
Contents
PREFACE . e - - - - -
INTRODUCTION e - - e -
I
THE DUCHESS OF WILTSHIRE's DIAMONDS
II
How SIMON CARNE won THE DERBy .
III
A SERVICE TO THE STATE . - -
IV
THE WEDDING GUEST . - -
V
A CASE OF PHILANTHROPY . e -
VI
An IMPERIAL FINALE . - - -
page
33
5.I
95
182
218
254





PREFACE
By THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL of AMBERLEy,
for many years Governor of the Colony of New South
Wales, and sometime Viceroy of India
FTER no small amount of deliberation, I
have come to the conclusion that it is
only fit and proper I should set myself right
with the world in the matter of the now famous
18— swindles. For, though I have never
been openly accused of complicity in those
miserable affairs, yet I cannot rid myself of the
remembrance that it was I who introduced the
man who perpetrated them to London society,
and that in more than one instance I acted,
innocently enough, Heaven knows, as his Deus
ex machiná, in bringing about the very results
he was so anxious to achieve. I will first
allude, in a few words, to the year in which the
crimes took place, and then proceed to describe
the events that led to my receiving the con-
fession which has so strangely and unexpectedly
come into my hands.
Whatever else may be said on the subject,
7


8 A PRINCE OF S WINDLERS
one thing at least is certain—it will be many
years before London forgets that season of
festivity. The joyous occasion which made
half the sovereigns of Europe our guests for
weeks on end, kept foreign princes among us
until their faces became as familiar to us as
those of our own aristocracy, rendered the
houses in our fashionable quarters unobtainable
for love or money, filled our hotels to repletion,
and produced daily pageants the like of which
few of us have ever seen or imagined, can
hardly fail to go down to posterity as one of
the most notable in English history. Small
wonder, therefore, that the wealth, then located
in our great metropolis, should have attracted
swindlers from all parts of the globe.
That it should have fallen to the lot of one
who has always prided himself on steering
clear of undesirable acquaintances, to introduce
to his friends one of the most notorious adven-
turers our capital has ever seen, seems like
the irony of fate. Perhaps, however, if I begin
by showing how cleverly our meeting was con-
trived, those, who would otherwise feel inclined
to censure me, will pause before passing judg-
ment, and will ask themselves whether they
would not have walked into the snare as unsus-
pectingly as I did.
It was during the last year of my term of


PREFACE 9
office as Viceroy, and while I was paying a
visit to the Governor of Bombay, that I de-
cided upon making a tour of the northern
Provinces, beginning with Peshawur, and wind-
ing up with the Maharajah of Malar-Kadir.
As the latter potentate is so well known, I need
not describe him. His forcible personality, his
enlightened rule, and the progress his state has
made within the last ten years, are well known
to every student of the history of our magni-
ficent Indian Empire.
My stay with him was a pleasant finish to
an otherwise monotonous business, for his
hospitality has a world-wide reputation. When
I arrived he placed his palace, his servants,
and his stables at my disposal to use just as I
pleased. My time was practically my own. I
could be as solitary as a hermit if I so desired;
on the other hand, I had but to give the order,
and five hundred men would cater for my amuse-
ment. It seems therefore the more unfortunate
that to this pleasant arrangement I should have
to attribute the calamities which it is the pur-
pose of this series of stories to narrate.
On the third morning of my stay I woke
early. When I had examined my watch I
discovered that it wanted an hour of daylight,
and, not feeling inclined to go to sleep again,
I wondered how I should employ my time


IO A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
until my servant should bring me my chota
Aazri, or early breakfast. On proceeding to
my window I found a perfect morning, the
stars still shining, though in the east they were
paling before the approach of dawn. It was
difficult to realize that in a few hours the earth
which now looked so cool and wholesome would
be lying, burnt up and quivering, beneath the
blazing Indian sun.
I stood and watched the picture presented to
me for some minutes, until an overwhelming
desire came over me to order a horse and go
for a long ride before the sun should make his
appearance above the jungle trees. The temp-
tation was more than I could resist, so I crossed
the room and, opening the door, woke my
servant, who was sleeping in the antechamber.
Having bidden him find a groom and have a
horse saddled for me, without rousing the
household, I returned and commenced my toilet.
Then, descending by a private staircase to the
great courtyard, I mounted the animal I found
awaiting me there, and set off.
Leaving the city behind me I made my way
over the new bridge with which His Highness
has spanned the river, and, crossing the plain,
headed towards the jungle, that rises like a
green wall upon the other side. My horse was
a waler of exceptional excellence, as every one


PREFACE II
who knows the Maharajah's stable will readily
understand, and I was just in the humour for a
ride. But the coolness was not destined to
last long, for, by the time I had left the second
village behind me, the stars had given place to
the faint grey light of dawn. A soft breeze
stirred the palms and rustled the long grass,
but its freshness was deceptive; the sun would
be up almost before I could look round, and
then nothing could save us from a scorching
day.
After I had been riding for nearly an hour it
struck me that, if I wished to be back in time
for breakfast, I had better think of returning.
At the time I was standing in the centre of a
small plain, surrounded by jungle. Behind me
was the path I had followed to reach the place;
in front, and to right and left, others leading
whither I could not tell. Having no desire to
return by the road I had come, I touched up
my horse and cantered off in an easterly
direction, feeling certain that, even if I had to
make a divergence, I should reach the city
without very much trouble.
By the time I had put three miles or so
behind me the heat had become stifling, the
path being completely shut in on either side
by the densest jungle I have ever known.
For all I could see to the contrary, I might


I2 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
have been a hundred miles from any habita-
tion.
Imagine my astonishment, therefore, when,
on turning a corner of the track, I suddenly
left the jungle behind me, and found myself
standing on the top of a stupendous cliff, look-
ing down upon a lake of blue water. In the
centre of this lake was an island, and on the
island a house. At the distance I was from it
the latter appeared to be built of white marble,
as indeed I afterwards found to be the case.
Anything, however, more lovely than the effect
produced by the blue water, the white building,
and the jungle-clad hills upon the other side,
can scarcely be imagined. I stood and gazed
at it in delighted amazement. Of all the
beautiful places I had hitherto seen in India
this, I could honestly say, was entitled to rank
first. But how it was to benefit me in my
present situation I could not for the life of me
understand.
Ten minutes later I had discovered a guide,
and also a path down the cliff to the shore,
where, I was assured, a boat and a man could
be obtained to transport me to the palace. I
therefore bade my informant precede me, and
after some minutes' anxious scrambling my
horse and I reached the water's edge.
Once there, the boatman was soon brought


PREFACE I5
out a guide, and have no one to blame for what
has occurred but myself.”
“In that case I must thank the Fates for
their kindness to me,” returned my host. “But
don't let me keep you standing. You must be
both tired and hungry after your long ride, and
breakfast, as you see, is upon the table. Shall
we show ourselves sufficiently blind to the
conventionalities to sit down to it without
further preliminaries 2"
Upon my assenting he struck a small gong
at his side, and servants, acting under the in-
structions of the white man who had con-
ducted me to his master's presence, instantly
appeared in answer to it. We took our places
at the table, and the meal immediately com-
menced.
While it was in progress I was permitted
an excellent opportunity of studying my host,
who sat opposite me, with such light as pene-
trated the ſhilmills falling directly upon his
face. I doubt, however, vividly as my memory
recalls the scene, whether I can give you an
adequate description of the man who has since
come to be a sort of nightmare to me.
In height he could not have been more than
five feet two. His shoulders were broad, and
would have been evidence of considerable
strength but for one malformation, which com-


I6 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
pletely spoilt his whole appearance. The poor
fellow suffered from curvature of the spine of
the worst sort, and the large hump between his
shoulders produced a most extraordinary effect.
But it is when I endeavour to describe his face
that I find myself confronted with the most
serious difficulty.
How to make you realize it I hardly know.
To begin with, I do not think I should be
overstepping the mark were I to say that it
was one of the most beautiful countenances I
have ever seen in my fellow men. Its contour
was as perfect as that of the bust of the Greek
god, Hermes, to whom, all things considered, it
is only fit and proper he should bear some
resemblance. The forehead was broad, and
surmounted with a wealth of dark hair, in
colour almost black. His eyes were large and
dreamy, the brows almost pencilled in their
delicacy; the nose, the most prominent feature
of his face, reminded me more of that of the
great Napoleon than any other I can recall.
His mouth was small but firm, his ears as
tiny as those of an English beauty, and set in
closer to his head than is usual with those
organs. But it was his chin that fascinated me
most. It was plainly that of a man accustomed
to command; that of a man of iron will whom
no amount of opposition would deter from his


I8 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
collection I had never seen before. Its size and
completeness amazed me.
“But surely you have not brought all these
specimens together yourself?" I asked in
astonishment.
“With a few exceptions,” he answered.
“You see it has been the hobby of my life.
And it is to the fact that I am now engaged
upon a book upon the subject, which I hope to
have published in England next year, that you
may attribute my playing the hermit here.”
“You intend, then, to visit England 2"
“If my book is finished in time,” he an-
swered, “I shall be in London at the end of
April or the commencement of May. Who
would not wish to be in the chief city of Her
Majesty's dominions upon such a joyous and
auspicious occasion ?”
As he said this he took down a small vase
from a shelf, and, as if to change the subject,
described its history and its beauties to me. A
stranger picture than he presented at that
moment it would be difficult to imagine. His
long fingers held his treasure as carefully as if
it were an invaluable jewel, his eyes glistened
with the fire of the true collector, who is born
but never made, and when he came to that part
of his narrative which described the long hunt
for, and the eventual purchase of, the ornament


PREFACE I9
in question, his voice fairly shook with excite-
ment. I was more interested than at any other
time I should have thought possible, and it was
then that I committed the most foolish action of
my life. Quite carried away by his charm I
said:
“I hope when you do come to London, you
will permit me to be of any service I can to
you.”
“I thank you,” he answered gravely. “Your
lordship is very kind, and if the occasion arises.
as I hope it will, I shall most certainly avail
myself of your offer.”
“We shall be very pleased to see you,” I
replied; “and now, if you will not consider me
inquisitive, may I ask if you live in this great
place alone P”
“With the exception of my servants I have
no companions.”
“Really You must surely find it very
lonely?”
“I do, and it is that very solitude which
endears it to me. When His Highness so
kindly offered me the place for a residence, I
inquired if I should have much company. He
replied that I might remain here twenty years
and never see a soul unless I chose to do so.
On hearing that I accepted his offer with
alacrity.”


2O A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“Then you prefer the life of a hermit to
mixing with your fellow men P”
“I do. But next year I shall put off my
monastic habits for a few months, and mix with
my fellow men, as you call them, in London.”
“You will find hearty welcome, I am sure.”
“It is very kind of you to say so ; I hope I
shall. But I am forgetting the rules of hospi-
tality. You are a great smoker, I have heard.
Let me offer you a cigar.”
As he spoke, he took a small silver whistle
from his pocket, and blew a peculiar note upon
it. A moment later the same English servant
who had conducted me to his presence, entered,
carrying a number of cigar boxes upon a tray.
I chose one, and as I did so glanced at the man.
In outward appearance he was exactly what a
body servant should be, of medium height,
scrupulously neat, clean shaven, and with a face
as devoid of expression as a blank wall. When
he had left the room again my host immediately
turned to me.
“Now,” he said, “as you have seen my col-
lection, will you like to explore the Palace P”
To this proposition I gladly assented, and we
set off together. An hour later, satiated with
the beauty of what I had seen, and feeling as if
I had known the man beside me all my life, I
bade him good-bye upon the steps, and prepared


PREFACE 2I
to return to the spot where my horse was
waiting for me.
“One of my servants will accompany you,”
he said, “and will conduct you to the city.”
“I am greatly indebted to you,” I answered.
“Should I not see you before, I hope you will
not forget your promise to call upon me either
in Calcutta, before we leave, or in London next
year.”
He smiled in a peculiar way.
“You must not think me so blind to my own
interests as to forget your kind offer,” he
replied. “It is just possible, however, that I
may be in Calcutta before you leave.”
“I shall hope to see you then,” I said, and
having shaken him by the hand, stepped into
the boat which was waiting to convey me
aCrOSS.
Within an hour I was back once more at the
Palace, much to the satisfaction of the Maha-
rajah and my staff, to whom my absence had
been the cause of considerable anxiety.
It was not until the evening that I found a
convenient opportunity, and was able to ques-
tion His Highness about his strange protégé.
He quickly told me all there was to know about
him. His name, it appeared, was Simon Carne.
He was an Englishman, and had been a great
traveller. On a certain memorable occasion he


22 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
had saved His Highness' life at the risk of his
own, and ever since that time a close intimacy
had existed between them. For upwards of
three years the man in question had occupied a
wing of the island palace, going away for months
at a time, presumably in search of specimens for
his collection, and returning when he became
tired of the world. To the best of His Highness'
belief he was exceedingly wealthy, but on this
subject little was known. Such was all I could
learn about the mysterious individual I had met
earlier in the day.
Much as I wanted to do so, I was unable to
pay another visit to the palace on the lake.
Owing to pressing business, I was compelled to
return to Calcutta as quickly as possible. For
this reason it was nearly eight months before I
saw or heard anything of Simon Carne again.
When I did meet him we were in the midst of
our preparations for returning to England. I
had been for a ride, I remember, and was in
the act of dismounting from my horse, when an
individual came down the steps and strolled
towards me. I recognised him instantly as the
man in whom I had been so much interested in
Malar-Kadir. He was now dressed in fashion-
able European attire, but there was no mistaking
his face. I held out my hand.
“How do you do, Mr. Carne 2 " I cried.


PREFACE 23
“This is an unexpected pleasure. Pray how
long have you been in Calcutta ?”
“I arrived last night,” he answered, “and I
leave to-morrow morning for Burma. You see,
I have taken Your Excellency at your word.”
“I am very pleased to see you,” I replied.
“I have the liveliest recollection of your kind-
ness to me the day that I lost my way in the
jungle. As you are leaving so soon, I fear we
shall not have the pleasure of seeing much of
you, but possibly you can dine with us this
evening P”
“I shall be very glad to do so,” he answered
simply, watching me with his wonderful eyes,
which somehow always reminded me of those
of a collie.
“Her ladyship is devoted to Indian pottery
and brass work,” I said, “and she would never
forgive me if I did not give her an opportunity
of consulting you upon her collection.”
“I shall be very proud to assist in any way I
can,” he answered.
“Very well, then, we shall meet at eight.
Good-bye.”
That evening we had the pleasure of his
society at dinner, and I am prepared to state
that a more interesting guest has never sat at a
vice-regal table. My wife and daughters fell
under his spell as quickly as I had done. In-


24 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
deed, the former told me afterwards that she
considered him the most uncommon man she
had met during her residence in the East,
an admission scarcely complimentary to the
numerous important members of my council
who all prided themselves upon their origin-
ality. When he said good-bye we had extorted
his promise to call upon us in London, and I
gathered later that my wife was prepared to
make a lion of him when he should put in an
appearance.
How he did arrive in London during the
first week of the following May; how it
became known that he had taken Porchester
House, which, as every one knows, stands at
the corner of Belverton Street and Park Lane,
for the season, at an enormous rental ; how he
furnished it superbly, brought an army of
Indian servants to wait upon him, and was
prepared to astonish the town with his enter-
tainments, are matters of history. I welcomed
him to England, and he dined with us on the
night following his arrival, and thus it was
that we became, in a manner of speaking, his
sponsors in Society. When one looks back on
that time, and remembers how vigorously, even
in the midst of all that season's gaiety, our
social world took him up, the fuss that was
made of him, the manner in which his doings


PREFACE 25
were chronicled by the Press, it is indeed hard
to realize how egregiously we were all being
deceived.
During the months of June and July he was
to be met at every house of distinction. Even
royalty permitted itself to become on friendly
terms with him, while it was rumoured that no
fewer than three of the proudest beauties in
England were prepared at any moment to
accept his offer of marriage. To have been a
social lion during such a brilliant season, to
have been able to afford one of the most per-
fect residences in our great city, and to have
written a book which the foremost authorities
upon the subject declare to be a masterpiece,
are things of which any man might be proud.
And yet this was exactly what Simon Carne
was and did.
And now, having described his advent
among us, I must refer to the greatest excite-
ment of all that year. Unique as was the
occasion which prompted the gaiety of London,
constant as were the arrivals and departures of
illustrious folk, marvellous as were the social
functions, and enormous the amount of money
expended, it is strange that the things which
attracted the most attention should be neither
royal, social, nor political.
As may be imagined, I am referring to the


26 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
enormous robberies and swindles which will
for ever be associated with that memorable
year. Day after day, for weeks at a time, the
Press chronicled a series of crimes, the like of
which the oldest Englishman could not remem-
ber. It soon became evident that they were
the work of one person, and that that person
was a master hand was as certain as his
SucCeSS.
At first the police were positive that the
depredations were conducted by a foreign
gang, located somewhere in North London,
and that they would soon be able to put their
fingers on the culprits. But they were speedily
undeceived. In spite of their efforts the
burglaries continued with painful regularity.
Hardly a prominent person escaped. My
friend Lord Orpington was despoiled of his
priceless gold and silver plate; my cousin, the
Duchess of Wiltshire, lost her world famous
diamonds; the Earl of Calingforth his race-
horse “Vulcanite”; and others of my friends
were despoiled of their choicest possessions.
How it was that I escaped I can understand
now, but I must confess that it passed my
comprehension at the time. -
Throughout the season Simon Carne and I
scarcely spent a day apart. His society was
like chloral ; the more I took of it the more I


PREFACE 27
wanted. And I am now told that others were
affected in the same way. I used to flatter
myself that it was to my endeavours he owed
his social success, and I can only, in justice,
say that he tried to prove himself grateful. I
have his portrait hanging in my library now,
painted by a famous Academician, with this
inscription upon the lozenge at the base of
the frame :
“To my kind friend, the Earl of Amberley,
in remembrance of a happy and prosperous visit
to London, from Simon Carne.”
The portrait represents him standing before
a bookcase in a half-dark room. His extra-
ordinary face, with its dark penetrating eyes, is
instinct with life, while his lips seem as if
opening to speak. To my thinking it would
have been a better picture had he not been
standing in such a way that the light accentu-
ated his deformity; but it appears that this was
the sitter's own desire, thus confirming what,
on many occasions, I had felt compelled to
believe, namely, that he was, for some peculiar
reason, proud of his misfortune.
It was at the end of the Cowes week that
we parted company. He had been racing his
yacht, the Unknown Quantity, and, as if not
satisfied with having won the Derby, must
needs appropriate the Queen's Cup. It was


28 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
on the day following that now famous race that
half the leaders of London Society bade him
farewell on the deck of the steam yacht that
was to carry him back to India.
A month later, and quite by chance, the
dreadful truth came out. Then it was dis-
covered that the man of whom we had all been
making so much fuss, the man whom royalty
had condescended to treat almost as a friend,
was neither more nor less than a Prince of
Swindlers, who had been utilising his splendid
opportunities to the very best advantage.
Every one will remember the excitement
which followed the first disclosure of this
dreadful secret, and the others which followed
it. As fresh discoveries came to light, the
popular interest became more and more intense,
while the public's wonderment at the man's
almost superhuman cleverness waxed every day
greater than before. My position, as you may
suppose, was not an enviable one. I saw how
cleverly I had been duped, and when my
friends, who had most of them suffered from
his talents, congratulated me on my immunity,
I could only console myself with the reflection
that I was responsible for more than half the
acquaintances the wretch had made. But,
deeply as I was drinking of the cup of sorrow,
I had not come to the bottom of it yet.


PREFACE 29
One Saturday evening—the 7th of Novem-
ber, if I recollect aright—I was sitting in my
library, writing letters after dinner, when I
heard the postman come round the square and
finally ascend the steps of my house. A few
moments later a footman entered bearing some
letters, and a large packet, upon a salver.
Having read the former, I cut the string which
bound the parcel, and opened it.
To my surprise, it contained a bundle of
manuscript and a letter. The former I put
aside, while I broke open the envelope and
extracted its contents. To my horror, it was
from Simon Carne, and ran as follows:
“ON THE HIGH SEAS.
“My DEAR LORD AMBERLEy,–
“It is only reasonable to suppose that by this time
you have become acquainted with the nature of the
peculiar services you have rendered me. I am your
debtor for as pleasant, and, at the same time, as profitable
a visit to London as any man could desire. In order that
you may not think me ungrateful, I will ask you to accept
the accompanying narrative of my adventures in your
great metropolis. Since I have placed myself beyond the
reach of capture, I will permit you to make any use of it
you please. Doubtless you will blame me, but you must at
least do me the justice to remember that, in spite of the
splendid opportunities you permitted me, I invariably
spared yourself and family. You will think me mad thus
to betray myself, but, believe me, I have taken the greatest
precautions against discovery, and as I am proud of my


30 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
London exploits, I have not the least desire to hide my
light beneath a bushel.
“With kind regards to Lady Amberley and yourself,
“I am, yours very sincerely,
“SIMON CARNE.”
Needless to say I did not retire to rest
before I had read the manuscript through from
beginning to end, with the result that the
morning following I communicated with the
police. They were hopeful that they might be
able to discover the place where the packet
had been posted, but after considerable search
it was found that it had been handed by a
captain of a yacht, name unknown, to the com-
mander of a homeward bound brig, off Finis-
terre, for postage in Plymouth. The narrative,
as you will observe, is written in the third
person, and, as far as I can gather, the hand-
writing is not that of Simon Carne. As, how-
ever, the details of each individual swindle
coincide exactly with the facts as ascertained
by the police, there can be no doubt of their
authenticity.
A year has now elapsed since my receipt of
the packet. During that time the police of
almost every civilized country have been on
the alert to effect the capture of my whilom
friend, but without success. Whether his
yacht sank and conveyed him to the bottom of


PREFACE 3I
the ocean, or whether, as I suspect, she only
carried him to a certain part of the seas where
he changed into another vessel and so eluded
justice, I cannot say. Even the Maharajah of
Malar-Kadir has heard nothing of him since.
The fact, however, remains, I have, innocently
enough, compounded a series of felonies, and,
as I said at the commencement of this preface,
the publication of the narrative I have so
strangely received is intended to be, as far as
possible, my excuse.





INTRODUCTION
HE night was close and muggy, such a
night, indeed, as only Calcutta, of all the
great cities of the East, can produce. The
reek of the native quarter, that sickly, penetra-
ting odour which, once smelt, is never forgotten,
filled the streets and even invaded the sacred
precincts of Government House, where a man
of gentlemanly appearance, but sadly deformed,
was engaged in bidding Her Majesty the Queen
of England's representative in India an almost
affectionate farewell.
“You will not forget your promise to ac-
quaint us with your arrival in London,” said
His Excellency as he shook his guest by the
hand. “We shall be delighted to see you, and
if we can make your stay pleasurable as well as
profitable to you, you may be sure we shall
endeavour to do so.”
“Your lordship is most hospitable, and I
think I may safely promise that I will avail
myself of your kindness,” replied the other.
33 C


34 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“In the meantime “good-bye,' and a pleasant
voyage to you.”
A few minutes later he had passed the sentry,
and was making his way along the Maidan to
the point where the Chitpore Road crosses it.
Here he stopped and appeared to deliberate.
He smiled a little sardonically as the recollec-
tion of the evening's entertainment crossed his
mind, and, as if he feared he might forget some-
thing connected with it, when he reached a
lamp-post, took a note-book from his pocket
and made an entry in it.
“Providence has really been most kind,” he
said as he shut the book with a snap, and re-
turned it to his pocket. “And what is more, I
am prepared to be properly grateful. It was a
good morning's work for me when His Ex-
cellency decided to take a ride through the
Maharajah's suburbs. Now I have only to
play my cards carefully and success should be
assured.”
He took a cigar from his pocket, nipped off
the end, and then lit it. He was still smiling
when the smoke had cleared away.
“It is fortunate that Her Excellency is, like
myself, an enthusiastic admirer of Indian art,”
he said. “It is a trump card, and I shall play
it for all it's worth when I get to the other
side. But to-night I have something of more


INTRODUCTION 35
importance to consider. I have to find the
sinews of war. Let us hope that the luck
which has followed me hitherto will still hold
good, and that Liz will prove as tractable as
usual.”
Almost as he concluded his soliloquy a ticca-
gharri made its appearance, and, without being
hailed, pulled up beside him. It was evident
that their meeting was intentional, for the driver
asked no question of his fare, who simply took
his seat, laid himself back upon the cushions,
and smoked his cigar with the air of a man
playing a part in some performance that had
been long arranged.
Ten minutes later the coachman had turned
out of the Chitpore Road into a narrow bye
street. From this he broke off into another,
and at the end of a few minutes into still an-
other. These offshoots of the main thorough-
fare were wrapped in inky darkness, and, in
order that there should be as much danger as
possible, they were crowded to excess. To
those who know Calcutta this information will
be significant.
There are slums in all the great cities of the
world, and every one boasts its own peculiar
characteristics. The Ratcliffe Highway in
London, and the streets that lead off it, can
show a fair assortment of vice; the Chinese


36 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERs
quarters of New York, Chicago, and San
Francisco can more than equal them; Little
Bourke Street, Melbourne, a portion of Singa-
pore, and the shipping quarter of Bombay, have
their own individual qualities, but surely for the
lowest of all the world's low places one must
go to Calcutta, the capital of our great Indian
Empire.
Surrounding the Lal, Machua, Burra, and
Joira Bazaars are to be found the most infamous
dens the mind of man can conceive. But that
is not all. If an exhibition of scented, high-
toned, gold-lacquered vice is required, one has
only to make one's way into the streets that lie
within a stone's throw of the Chitpore Road to
be accommodated.
Reaching a certain corner, the gharri came
to a standstill and the fare alighted. He said
something in an undertone to the driver as he
paid him, and then stood upon the footway
placidly smoking until the vehicle had dis-
appeared from view. When it was no longer
in sight he looked up at the houses towering
above his head; in one a marriage feast was
being celebrated; across the way the sound of
a woman's voice in angry expostulation could
be heard. The passers-by, all of whom were
natives, scanned him curiously, but made no
remark. Englishmen, it is true, were sometimes


IWTRODUCTION 37
seen in that quarter and at that hour, but this
one seemed of a different class, and it is
possible that nine out of every ten took him
for the most detested of all Englishmen, a
police officer.
For upwards of ten minutes he waited, but
after that he seemed to become impatient.
The person he had expected to find at the
rendezvous had, so far, failed to put in an
appearance, and he was beginning to wonder
what he had better do in the event of his not
coming.
But, badly as he had started, he was not
destined to fail in his enterprise; for, just as his
patience was exhausted, he saw, hastening to-
wards him, a man whom he recognised as the
person for whom he waited.
“You are late,” he said in English, which he
was aware the other spoke fluently, though he
was averse to owning it. “I have been here
more than a quarter of an hour.”
“It was impossible that I could get away
before,” the other answered cringingly; “but if
your Excellency will be pleased to follow me
now, I will conduct you to the person you seek,
without further delay.”
“Lead on,” said the Englishman; “we have
wasted enough time already.”
Without more ado the Babu turned himself


INTRODUCTION 39
Now and again figures issued from the dif-
ferent doorways, stood for a moment looking
anxiously about them, and then disappeared as
silently as they had come. All the time not a
light was to be seen, or the sound of a human
voice. It was a strange place for a white man
to be in, and so Simon Carne evidently thought
as he obeyed his guide's invitation and entered
the last house on the right hand side.
Whether the buildings had been originally
intended for residences or for offices it would
be difficult to say. They were almost as old as
John Company himself, and would not appear
to have been cleaned or repaired since they had
been first inhabited.
From the centre of the hall, in which he
found himself, a massive staircase led to the
other floors, and up this Carne marched behind
his conductor. On gaining the first landing
he paused while the Babu went forward and
knocked at a door. A moment later the shutter
of a small grille was pulled back, and the face
of a native woman looked out. A muttered
conversation ensued, and after it was finished
the door was opened and Carne was invited to
enter. This summons he obeyed with alacrity,
only to find that once he was inside, the door
was immediately shut and barred behind him.
After the darkness of the street and the


40 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
semi-obscurity of the stairs, the dazzling light
of the apartment in which he now stood was
almost too much for his eyes. It was not long,
however, before he had recovered sufficiently
to look about him. The room was a fine one,
in shape almost square, with a large window at
the further end covered with a thick curtain of
native cloth. It was furnished with considerable
taste, in a mixture of styles, half European and
half native. A large lamp of worked brass,
burning some sweet-smelling oil, was suspended
from the ceiling. A quantity of tapestry, much
of it extremely rare, covered the walls, relieved
here and there with some superb specimens of
native weapons; comfortable divans were
scattered about, as if inviting repose, and as if
further to carry out this idea, beside one of the
lounges, a silver-mounted narghyle was placed,
its tube curled up beside it in a fashion some-
what suggestive of a snake.
But, luxurious as it all was, it was evidently
not quite what Carne had expected to find, and
the change seemed to mystify as much as it
surprised him. Just as he was coming to a
decision, however, his ear caught the sound of
chinking bracelets, and next moment the cur-
tain which covered a doorway in the left wall
was drawn aside by a hand glistening with
rings and as tiny as that of a little child. A


INTRODUCTION 4 I
second later Trincomalee Liz entered the
TOOIn.
Standing in the doorway, the heavily em-
broidered curtain falling in thick folds behind
her and forming a most effective background,
she made a picture such as few men could look
upon without a thrill of admiration. At that
time she, the famous Trincomalee Liz, whose
doings had made her notorious from the
Saghalian coast to the shores of the Persian
Gulf, was at the prime of her life and beauty—
a beauty such as no man who has ever seen it
will ever forget.
It was a notorious fact that those tiny hands
had ruined more men than any other half-
dozen pairs in the whole of India, or the East
for that matter. Not much was known of her
history, but what had come to light was cer-
tainly interesting. As far as could be ascer-
tained she was born in Tonquin; her father, it
had been said, was a handsome but disreputable
Frenchman, who had called himself a count,
and over his absinthe was wont to talk of his
possessions in Normandy; her mother hailed
from Northern India, and she herself was love-
lier than the pale hibiscus blossom. To tell in
what manner Liz and Carne had become ac-
quainted would be too long a story to be
included here. But that there was some bond


INTRODUCTION 43
A few moments elapsed before he began his
explanation, and during that time he studied
her face closely.
“I have a scheme in my head,” he said, lay-
ing the huga stick carefully upon the floor,
“that, properly carried out, should make us
both rich beyond all telling, but to carry it
out properly I must have your co-operation.”
She laughed softly, and nodded her head.
“You mean that you want money,” she
answered. “Ah, Simon, you always want
money.”
“I do want money,” he replied without hesi-
tation. “I want it badly. Listen to what I
have to say, and then tell me if you can give
it to me. You know what year this is in Eng-
land P”
She nodded her head. There were few
things with which she had not some sort of
acquaintance.
“It will be a time of great rejoicing,” he
continued. “Half the princes of the earth
will be assembled in London. There will be
wealth untold there, to be had for the mere
gathering in ; and who is so well able to gather
it as I? I tell you, Liz, I have made up my
mind to make the journey and try my luck,
and, if you will help me with the money, you
shall have it back with such jewels, for interest,


44 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
as no woman ever wore yet. To begin with,
there is the Duchess of Wiltshire's necklace.
Ah, your eyes light up; you have heard of it?”
“I have,” she answered, her voice trembling
with excitement. “Who has not P”
“It is the finest thing of its kind in Europe,
if not in the world,” he went on slowly, as if to
allow time for his words to sink in. “It con-
sists of three hundred stones, and is worth,
apart from its historic value, at least fifty
thousand pounds.”
He saw her hands tighten on the cushions
upon which she sat.
“Fifty thousand pounds ! That is five lacs
of rupees P”
“Exactly! Five lacs of rupees, a king's
ransom,” he answered. “But that is not all.
There will be twice as much to be had for the
taking when once I get there. Find me the
money I want, and those stones shall be your
property.
“How much do you want?”
“The value of the necklace,” he answered.
“Fifty thousand pounds.”
“It is a large sum,” she said, “and it will be
difficult to find.”
He smiled, as if her words were a joke and
should be treated as such.
“The interest will be good,” he answered.


INTRODUCTION 45
“But are you certain of obtaining it 2" she
asked.
“Have I ever failed yet P” he replied.
“You have done wonderful things, certainly.
But this time you are attempting so much.”
“The greater the glory !” he answered. “I
have prepared my plans, and I shall not fail.
This is going to be the greatest undertaking
of my life. If it comes off successfully, I shall
retire upon my laurels. Come, for the sake of
—well, you know for the sake of what—will
you let me have the money? It is not the
first time you have done it, and on each occa-
sion you have not only been repaid, but well
rewarded into the bargain.”
“When do you want it?”
“By mid-day to-morrow. It must be paid
in to my account at the Bank before twelve
o'clock. You will have no difficulty in obtain-
ing it I know. Your respectable merchant
friends will do it for you if you but hold up
your little finger. If they don't feel inclined,
then put on the screw and make them.”
She laughed as he paid this tribute to her
power. A moment later, however, she was all
gravity.
“And the security ?”
He leant towards her and whispered in her
Car.


46 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“It is well,” she replied. “The money
shall be found for you to-morrow. Now tell
me your plans; I must know all that you in-
tend doing.”
“In the first place,” he answered, drawing a
little closer to her, and speaking in a lower
voice, so that no eavesdropper should hear, “I
shall take with me Abdul Khan, Ram Gafur,
Jowur Singh, and Nur Ali, with others of less
note as servants. I shall engage the best
house in London, and under the wing of our
gracious Viceroy, who has promised me the
light of his countenance, will work my way
into the highest society. That done I shall
commence operations. No one will ever sus-
pect l”
“And when it is finished, and you have
accomplished your desires, how will you
escape P”
“That I have not yet arranged. But of
this you may be sure, I shall run no risks.”
“And afterwards P”
He leant a little towards her again, and
patted her affectionately upon the hand.
“Then we shall see what we shall see,” he
said. “I don't think you will find me ungrate-
ful.” -
She shook her pretty head.
“It is good talk,” she cried, “but it means


INTRODUCTION 47
nothing. You always say the same. How am
I to know that you will not learn to love one
of the white mem-sahibs when you are so much
among them **
“Because there is but one Trincomalee
Liz,” he answered; “and for that reason you
need have no fear.”
Her face expressed the doubt with which she
received this assertion. As she had said, it was
not the first time she had been cajoled into
advancing him large sums with the same
assurance. He knew this, and, lest she should
alter her mind, prepared to change the sub-
ject.
“Besides the others, I must take Hiram
Singh and Wajib Baksh. They are in Cal-
cutta, I am told, and I must communicate
with them before noon to-morrow. They are
the most expert craftsmen in India, and I shall
have need of them.” -
“I will have them found, and word shall be
sent to you.”
“Could I not meet them here P"
“Nay, it is impossible. I shall not be here
myself. I leave for Madras within six hours.”
“Is there, then, trouble toward P”
She smiled, and spread her hands apart with
a gesture that said: “Who knows?”
He did not question her further, but after a


48 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
little conversation on the subject of the money,
rose to bid her farewell.
“I do not like this idea,” she said, standing
before him and looking him in the face. “It
is too dangerous. Why should you run such
risk? Let us go together to Burma. You
shall be my vizier.”
“I would wish for nothing better,” he said,
“were it not that I am resolved to go to
England. My mind is set upon it, and when
I have done, London shall have something to
talk about for years to come.”
“If you are determined, I will say no more,”
she answered; “but when it is over, and you
are free, we will talk again.”
“You will not forget about the money P” he
asked anxiously.
She stamped her foot.
“Money, money, money,” she cried. “It is
always the money of which you think. But
you shall have it, never fear. And now when
shall I see you again P”
“In six months' time at a place of which I
will tell you beforehand.”
“It is a long time to wait.”
“There is a necklace worth five lacs to pay
you for the waiting.”
“Then I will be patient. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, little friend,” he said. And


IWTRODUCTION 49
then, as if he thought he had not said enough,
he added: “Think sometimes of Simon Carne.”
She promised, with many pretty speeches, to
do so, after which he left the room and went
downstairs. As he reached the bottom step he
heard a cough in the dark above him and
looked up. He could just distinguish Liz
leaning over the rail. Then something dropped
and rattled upon the wooden steps behind him.
He picked it up to find that it was an antique
ring set with rubies.
“Wear it that it may bring thee luck,” she
cried, and then disappeared again.
He put the present on his finger and went
out into the dark square.
“The money is found,” he said, as he looked
up at the starlit heavens. “Hiram Singh and
Wajib Baksh are to be discovered before noon
to-morrow. His Excellency the Viceroy and
his amiable lady have promised to stand
sponsors for me in London society. If with
these advantages I don't succeed, well, all I
can say is, I don't deserve to. Now where is
my Babuji?”
Almost at the same instant a figure appeared
from the shadow of the building and approached
him.
“If the Sahib will permit me, I will guide
him by a short road to his hotel.”
D


50 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“Lead on then. I am tired, and it is time I
was in bed.” Then to himself he added: “I
must sleep to-night, for to-morrow there are
great things toward.”


I
The Duchess of Wiltshire's
Diamonds
O the reflective mind the rapidity with
which the inhabitants of the world's
greatest city seize upon a new name or 'idea,
and familiarise themselves with it, can scarcely
prove otherwise than astonishing. As an illus-
tration of my meaning let me take the case of
Klimo—the now famous private detective, who
has won for himself the right to be considered
as great as Lecocq, or even the late lamented
Sherlock Holmes.
Up to a certain morning London had never
even heard his name, nor had it the remotest
notion as to who or what he might be. It
was as sublimely ignorant and careless on the
subject as the inhabitants of Kamtchatka or
Peru. Within twenty-four hours, however, the
whole aspect of the case was changed. The
man, woman, or child who had not seen his
51


52 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
posters, or heard his name, was counted an
ignoramus unworthy of intercourse with human
beings.
Princes became familiar with it as their
trains bore them to Windsor to luncheon with
the Queen; the nobility noticed and com-
mented upon it as they drove about the town;
merchants, and business men generally, read it
as they made their ways by omnibus or under-
ground, to their various shops and counting-
houses; street boys called each other by it as
a nickname; music hall artistes introduced it
into their patter, while it was even rumoured
that the Stock Exchange itself had paused in
the full flood tide of business to manufacture a
riddle on the subject.
That Klimo made his profession pay him
well was certain, first from the fact that his
advertisements must have cost a good round
sum, and, second, because he had taken a
mansion in Belverton Street, Park Lane, next
door to Porchester House, where, to the dis-
may of that aristocratic neighbourhood, he
advertised that he was prepared to receive and
be consulted by his clients. The invitation
was responded to with alacrity, and from that
day forward, between the hours of twelve and
two, the pavement upon the north side of the
street was lined with carriages, every one con-


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 53
*
taining some person desirous of testing the
great man's skill.
I must here explain that I have narrated all
this in order to show the state of affairs exist-
ing in Belverton Street and Park Lane when
Simon Carne arrived, or was supposed to
arrive, in England. If my memory serves me
correctly, it was on Wednesday, the 3rd of
May, that the Earl of Amberley drove to
Victoria to meet and welcome the man whose
acquaintance he had made in India under such
peculiar circumstances, and under the spell of
whose fascination he and his family had fallen
so completely.
Reaching the station, his lordship descended
from his carriage, and made his way to the
platform set apart for the reception of the
Continental express. He walked with a jaunty
air, and seemed to be on the best of terms with
himself and the world in general. How little
he suspected the existence of the noose into
which he was so innocently running his head
As if out of compliment to his arrival, the
train put in an appearance within a few
moments of his reaching the platform. He
immediately placed himself in such a position
that he could make sure of seeing the man he
wanted, and waited patiently until he should
come in sight. Carne, however, was not


54 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
among the first batch; indeed, the majority of
passengers had passed before his lordship
caught sight of him.
One thing was very certain, however great
the crush might have been, it would have been
difficult to mistake Carne's figure. The man's
infirmity and the peculiar beauty of his face
rendered him easily recognisable. Possibly,
after his long sojourn in India, he found the
morning cold, for he wore a long fur coat, the
collar of which he had turned up round his
ears, thus making a fitting frame for his delicate
face. On seeing Lord Amberley he hastened
forward to greet him.
“This is most kind and friendly of you,” he
said, as he shook the other by the hand. “A
fine day and Lord Amberley to meet me. One
could scarcely imagine a better welcome.”
As he spoke, one of his Indian servants
approached and salaamed before him. He
gave him an order, and received an answer in
Hindustani, whereupon he turned again to
Lord Amberley.
“You may imagine how anxious I am to see
my new dwelling,” he said. “My servant tells
me that my carriage is here, so may I hope
that you will drive back with me and see for
yourself how I am likely to be lodged P”
“I shall be delighted,” said Lord Amberley,


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 55
who was longing for the opportunity, and they
accordingly went out into the station yard
together to discover a brougham, drawn by
two magnificent horses, and with Nur Ali, in
all the glory of white raiment and crested
turban, on the box, waiting to receive them.
His lordship dismissed his Victoria, and when
Jowur Singh had taken his place beside his
fellow servant upon the box, the carriage rolled
out of the station yard in the direction of
Hyde Park.
“I trust her ladyship is quite well,” said
Simon Carne politely, as they turned into
Gloucester Place.
“Excellently well, thank you,” replied his
lordship. “She bade me welcome you to
England in her name as well as my own, and
I was to say that she is looking forward to
seeing you.”
“She is most kind, and I shall do myself the
honour of calling upon her as soon as circum-
stances will permit,” answered Carne. “I beg
you will convey my best thanks to her for her
thought of me.”
While these polite speeches were passing
between them they were rapidly approaching a
large hoarding, on which was displayed a poster
setting forth the name of the now famous de-
tective, Klimo.


56 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
Simon Carne, leaning forward, studied it,
and when they had passed, turned to his friend
again.
“At Victoria and on all the hoardings we
meet I see an enormous placard, bearing the
word “Klimo.' Pray, what does it mean?”
His lordship laughed.
“You are asking a question which, a month
ago, was on the lips of nine out of every ten
Londoners. It is only within the last fortnight
that we have learned who and what “Klimo' is.”
“And pray what is he?”
“Well, the explanation is very simple. He
is neither more nor less than a remarkably
astute private detective, who has succeeded in
attracting notice in such a way that half London
has been induced to patronize him. I have had
no dealings with the man myself. But a friend
of mine, Lord Orpington, has been the victim
of a most audacious burglary, and, the police
having failed to solve the mystery, he has called
Klimo in. We shall therefore see what he can
do before many days are past. But, there, I
expect you will soon know more about him
than any of us.”
“Indeed! And why?”
“For the simple reason that he has taken
No. 1, Belverton Terrace, the house adjoining
your own, and sees his clients there.”


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 57
Simon Carne pursed up his lips, and appeared
to be considering something.
“I trust he will not prove a nuisance,” he
said at last. “The agents who found me the
house should have acquainted me with the fact.
Private detectives, on however large a scale,
scarcely strike one as the most desirable of
neighbours—particularly for a man who is so
fond of quiet as myself.”
At this moment they were approaching their
destination. As the carriage passed Belverton
Street and pulled up, Lord Amberley pointed
to a long line of vehicles standing before the
detective's door.
“You can see for yourself something of
the business he does,” he said. “Those
are the carriages of his clients, and it is
probable that twice as many have arrived on
foot.”
“I shall certainly speak to the agent on the
subject,” said Carne, with a shadow of annoy-
ance upon his face. “I consider the fact of
this man's being so close to me a serious draw-
back to the house.”
Jowur Singh here descended from the box
and opened the door in order that his master
and his guest might alight, while portly Ram
Gafur, the butler, came down the steps and
salaamed before them with Oriental obsequious-


58 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
ness. Carne greeted his domestics with kindly
condescension, and then, accompanied by the
ex-Viceroy, entered his new abode.
“I think you may congratulate yourself upon
having secured one of the most desirable resi-
dences in London,” said his lordship ten minutes
or so later, when they had explored the principal
TOOIT1S.
“I am very glad to hear you say so,” said
Carne. “I trust your lordship will remember
that you will always be welcome in the house
as long as I am its owner.”
“It is very kind of you to say so,” returned
Lord Amberley warmly. “I shall look forward
to some months of pleasant intercourse. And
now I must be going. To-morrow, perhaps, if
you have nothing better to do, you will give us
the pleasure of your company at dinner. Your
fame has already gone abroad, and we shall ask
one or two nice people to meet you, including
my brother and sister-in-law, Lord and Lady
Gelpington, Lord and Lady Orpington, and my
cousin, the Duchess of Wiltshire, whose interest
in china and Indian art, as perhaps you know,
is only second to your own.”
“I shall be most glad to come.”
“We may count on seeing you in Eaton
Square, then, at eight o'clock P”
“If I am alive you may be sure I shall be


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 59
there. Must you really go? Then good-bye,
and many thanks for meeting me.”
His lordship having left the house, Simon
Carne went upstairs to his dressing-room, which
it was to be noticed he found without inquiry,
and rang the electric bell, beside the fireplace,
three times. While he was waiting for it to be
answered he stood looking out of the window
at the long line of carriages in the street below.
“Everything is progressing admirably,” he
said to himself. “Amberley does not suspect
any more than the world in general. As a
proof he asks me to dinner to-morrow evening
to meet his brother and sister-in-law, two of his
particular friends, and above all Her Grace of
Wiltshire. Of course I shall go, and when
I bid Her Grace good-bye it will be strange
if I am not one step nearer the interest
on Liz's money.”
At this moment the door opened, and
his valet, the grave and respectable Belton,
entered the room. Carne turned to greet
him impatiently.
“Come, come, Belton,” he said, “we must
be quick. It is twenty minutes to twelve, and
if we don't hurry, the folk next door will become
impatient. Have you succeeded in doing what
I spoke to you about last night?”
“I have done everything, sir.”


60 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“I am glad to hear it. Now lock that door
and let us get to work. You can let me have
your news while I am dressing.”
Opening one side of a massive wardrobe, that
completely filled one end of the room, Belton
took from it a number of garments. They in-
cluded a well-worn velvet coat, a baggy pair
of trousers—so old that only a notorious pauper
or a millionaire could have afforded to wear
them—a flannel waistcoat, a Gladstone collar,
a soft silk tie, and a pair of embroidered carpet
slippers upon which no old clothes man in the
most reckless way of business in Petticoat Lane
would have advanced a single halfpenny. Into
these he assisted his master to change.
“Now give me the wig, and unfasten the
straps of this hump," said Carne, as the other
placed the garments just referred to upon a
neighbouring chair.
Belton did as he was ordered, and then there.
happened a thing the like of which no one
would have believed. Having unbuckled a
strap on either shoulder, and slipped his hand
beneath the waistcoat, he withdrew a large
papier-maché hump, which he carried away and
carefully placed in a drawer of the bureau.
Relieved of his burden, Simon Carne stood up
as straight and well-made a man as any in Her
Majesty's dominions. The malformation, for


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 6I
which so many, including the Earl and Countess
of Amberley, had often pitied him, was nothing
but a hoax intended to produce an effect which
would permit him additional facilities of dis-
guise.
The hump discarded, and the grey wig fitted
carefully to his head in such a manner that not
even a pinch of his own curly locks could be
seen beneath it, he adorned his cheeks with a
pair of crêpu-hair whiskers, donned the flannel
vest and the velvet coat previously mentioned,
slipped his feet into the carpet slippers, placed
a pair of smoked glasses upon his nose, and
declared himself ready to proceed about his
business. The man who would have known
him for Simon Carne would have been as astute
as, well, shall we say, as the private detective—
Klimo himself. *
“It's on the stroke of twelve,” he said, as he
*gave a final glance at himself in the pier-glass
above the dressing-table, and arranged his tie
to his satisfaction. “Should any one call, in-
struct Ram Gafur to tell them that I have gone
out on business, and shall not be back until
three o'clock.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Now undo the door and let me go in.”
Thus commanded, Belton went across to the
large wardrobe which, as I have already said,


62 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
covered the whole of one side of the room, and
opened the middle door. Two or three gar-
ments were seen inside suspended on pegs,
and these he removed, at the same time push-
ing towards the right the panel at the rear.
When this was done a large aperture in the
wall between the two houses was disclosed.
Through this door Carne passed, drawing it
behind him.
In No. 1, Belverton Terrace, the house
occupied by the detective, whose presence in
the street Carne seemed to find so objection-
able, the entrance thus constructed was covered
by the peculiar kind of confessional box in
which Klimo invariably sat to receive his
clients, the rearmost panels of which opened

in the same fashion as those in the wardrobe in
the dressing-room. These being pulled aside,
he had but to draw them to again after him,
take his seat, ring the electric bell to inform
his housekeeper that he was ready, and then
welcome his clients as quickly as they cared to
COrne.
Punctually at two o'clock the interviews
ceased, and Klimo, having reaped an excellent
harvest of fees, returned to Porchester House
to become Simon Carne once more.
Possibly it was due to the fact that the Earl
and Countess of Amberley were brimming over


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 63
with his praise, or it may have been the rumour
that he was worth as many millions as you
have fingers upon your hand that did it; one
thing, however, was self evident, within twenty-
four hours of the noble earl's meeting him at
Victoria Station, Simon Carne was the talk,
not only of fashionable, but also of unfashion-
able London.
That his household were, with one excep-
tion, natives of India, that he had paid a rental
for Porchester House which ran into five
figures, that he was the greatest living author-
ity upon china and Indian art generally, and
that he had come over to England in search of
a wife, were among the smallest of the canards
set afloat concerning him.

During dinner next evening Carne put forth a
every effort to please. He was placed on the
right hand of his hostess and next to the
Duchess of Wiltshire. To the latter he paid
particular attention, and to such good purpose
that when the ladies returned to the drawing-
room afterwards, Her Grace was full of his
praises. They had discussed china of all sorts,
Carne had promised her a specimen which
she had longed for all her life, but had never
been able to obtain, and in return she had pro-
mised to show him the quaintly carved Indian
casket in which the famous necklace, of which
º


64 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
he had, of course, heard, spent most of its
time. She would be wearing the jewels in
question at her own ball in a week's time, she
informed him, and if he would care to see the
case when it came from her bankers on that
day, she would be only too pleased to show it
to him.
As Simon Carne drove home in his luxuri-
ous brougham afterwards, he smiled to himself
as he thought of the success which was attend-
ing his first endeavour. Two of the guests,
who were stewards of the Jockey Club, had
heard with delight his idea of purchasing a
horse, in order to have an interest in the Derby.
While another, on hearing that he desired to
become the possessor of a yacht, had offered to
propose him for the R.C.Y.C. To crown it all,
however, and much better than all, the Duchess
of Wiltshire had promised to show him her
famous diamonds.
“By this time next week,” he said to himself,
“Liz's interest should be considerably closer.
But satisfactory as my progress has been
hitherto, it is difficult to see how I am to get
possession of the stones. From what I have
been able to discover, they are only brought
from the bank on the day the Duchess intends
to wear them, and they are taken back by His
Grace the morning following.


THE DUCHESS'S DIAMONDS 65
“While she has got them on her person it
would be manifestly impossible to get them
from her. And as, when she takes them off,
they are returned to their box and placed in a
safe, constructed in the wall of the bedroom
adjoining, and which for the occasion is occu-
pied by the butler and one of the under foot-
men, the only key being in the possession of
the Duke himself, it would be equally foolish
to hope to appropriate them. In what manner,
therefore, I am to become their possessor passes
my comprehension. However, one thing is
certain, obtained they must be, and the attempt
must be made on the night of the ball if possi-
ble. In the meantime I'll set my wits to work
upon a plan.”
Next day Simon Carne was the recipient of
an invitation to the ball in question, and two
days later he called upon the Duchess of
Wiltshire, at her residence in Belgrave Square,
with a plan prepared. He also took with him
the small vase he had promised her four nights
before. She received him most graciously,
and their talk fell at once into the usual chan-
nel. Having examined her collection, and
charmed her by means of one or two judicious
criticisms, he asked permission to include
photographs of certain of her treasures in his
forthcoming book, then little by little he skil-
E -


66 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
fully guided the conversation on to the subject
of jewels.
“Since we are discussing gems, Mr. Carne,”
she said, “perhaps it would interest you to see
my famous necklace. By good fortune I have
it in the house now, for the reason that an
alteration is being made to one of the clasps by
my jewellers.”
“I should like to see it immensely,” answered
Carne. “At one time and another I have had
the good fortune to examine the jewels of the
leading Indian princes, and I should like to be
able to say that I had seen the famous Wilt-
shire necklace.”
“Then you shall certainly have that honour,”
she answered with a smile. “If you will ring
that bell I will send for it.”
Carne rang the bell as requested, and when
the butler entered he was given the key of the
safe and ordered to bring the case to the
drawing-room.
“We must not keep it very long,” she ob-
served while the man was absent. “It is to
be returned to the bank in an hour's time.”
“I am indeed fortunate,” Carne replied, and
turned to the description of some curious In-
dian wood carving, of which he was making a
special feature in his book. As he explained,
he had collected his illustrations from the doors


THE DUCHESS'S DIAMOWDS 67
º
of Indian temples, from the gateways of palaces,
from old brass work, and even from carved
chairs and boxes he had picked up in all sorts
of odd corners. Her Grace was most in-
terested.
“How strange that you should have men-
tioned it,” she said. “If carved boxes have
any interest for you, it is possible my jewel
case itself may be of use to you. As I think I
told you during Lady Amberley's dinner, it
came from Benares, and has carved upon it
the portraits of nearly every god in the Hindu
Pantheon.”
“You raise my curiosity to fever heat,” said
Carne.
A few moments later the servant returned,
bringing with him a wooden box, about sixteen
inches long, by twelve wide, and eight deep,
which he placed upon a table beside his mis-
tress, after which he retired.
“This is the case to which I have just been
referring,” said the Duchess, placing her hand
on the article in question. “If you glance at
it you will see how exquisitely it is carved.”
Concealing his eagerness with an effort,
Simon Carne drew his chair up to the table,
and examined the box.
It was with justice she had described it as
a work of art. What the wood was of which


68 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
it was constructed Carne was unable to tell.
It was dark and heavy, and, though it was
not teak, closely resembled it. It was literally
covered with quaint carving, and of its kind
was an unique work of art.
“It is most curious and beautiful,” said
Carne when he had finished his examination.
“In all my experience I can safely say I have
never seen its equal. If you will permit me
I should very much like to include a descrip-
tion and an illustration of it in my book.”
“Of course you may do so; I shall be only
too delighted,” answered Her Grace. “If it will
help you in your work I shall be glad to lend it
to you for a few hours, in order that you may
have the illustration made.”
This was exactly what Carne had been wait-
ing for, and he accepted the offer with alacrity.
“Very well, then,” she said. “On the day of
my ball, when it will be brought from the bank
again, I will take the necklace out and send the
case to you. I must make one proviso, how-
ever, and that is that you let me have it back
the same day.”
“I will certainly promise to do that,” replied
Carne.
“And now let us look inside,” said his
hostess.
Choosing a key from a bunch she carried in


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 69
her pocket, she unlocked the casket, and lifted
the lid. Accustomed as Carne had all his life
been to the sight of gems, what he then saw
before him almost took his breath away. The
inside of the box, both sides and bottom, was
quilted with the softest Russia leather, and on
this luxurious couch reposed the famous neck-
lace. The fire of the stones when the light
caught them was sufficient to dazzle the eyes, so
fierce was it.
As Carne could see, every gem was perfect
of its kind, and there were no fewer than three
hundred of them. The setting was a fine
example of the jeweller's art, and last, but not
least, the value of the whole affair was fifty
thousand pounds, a mere fleabite to the man
who had given it to his wife, but a fortune to
any humbler person.
“And now that you have seen my property,
what do you think of it?” asked the Duchess as
she watched her visitor's face.
“It is very beautiful,” he answered, “and I do
not wonder that you are proud of it. Yes, the
diamonds are very fine, but I think it is their
abiding place that fascinates me more. Have
you any objection to my measuring it 2."
“Pray do so, if it is likely to be of any
assistance to you,” replied Her Grace.
Carne thereupon produced a small ivory rule,


7o A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
ran it over the box, and the figures he thus
obtained he jotted down in his pocket-book.
Ten minutes later, when the case had been
returned to the safe, he thanked the Duchess for
her kindness and took his departure, promising
to call in person for the empty case on the
morning of the ball.
Reaching home he passed into his study, and,
seating himself at his writing table, pulled a
sheet of note paper towards him and began to
sketch, as well as he could remember it, the box
he had seen. Then he leant back in his chair
and closed his eyes.
“I have cracked a good many hard nuts in
my time,” he said reflectively, “but never one
that seemed so difficult at first sight as this.
As far as I see at present, the case stands as
follows: the box will be brought from the bank
where it usually reposes to Wiltshire House on
the morning of the dance. I shall be allowed to
have possession of it, without the stones of
course, for a period possibly extending from
eleven o'clock in the morning to four or five, at
any rate not later than seven, in the evening.
After the ball the necklace will be returned to it,
when it will be locked up in the safe, over
which the butler and a footman will mount
guard.
“To get into the room during the night is not


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 71
only too risky, but physically out of the question;
while to rob Her Grace of her treasure during
the progress of the dance would be equally im-
possible. The Duke fetches the casket and
takes it back to the bank himself, so that to all
intents and purposes I am almost as far off the
solution as ever.”
Half an hour went by and found him still
seated at his desk, staring at the drawing on the
paper, then an hour. The traffic of the streets
rolled past the house unheeded. Finally Jowur
Singh announced his carriage, and, feeling that
an idea might come to him with a change of
scene, he set off for a drive in the park.
By this time his elegant mail phaeton, with
its magnificent horses and Indian servant on the
seat behind, was as well-known as Her Majesty's
state equipage, and attracted almost as much
attention. To-day, however, the fashionable
world noticed that Simon Carne looked pre-
occupied. He was still working out his
problem, but so far without much success.
Suddenly something, no one will ever be able to
say what, put an idea into his head. The
notion was no sooner born in his brain than he
left the park and drove quickly home. Ten
minutes had scarcely elapsed before he was back
in his study again, and had ordered that Wajib
Baksh should be sent to him.


72 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
When the man he wanted put in an appear-
ance, Carne handed him the paper upon which
he had made the drawing of the jewel case.
“Look at that,” he said, “and tell me what
thou seest there.”
“I see a box,” answered the man, who by
this time was well accustomed to his master's
ways.
“As thou say'st, it is a box,” said Carne.
“The wood is heavy and thick, though what
wood it is I do not know. The measurements
are upon the paper below. Within, both the
sides and bottom are quilted with soft leather, as
I have also shown. Think now, Wajib Baksh,
for in this case thou wilt need to have all thy
wits about thee. Tell me is it in thy power, oh
most cunning of all craftsmen, to insert such
extra sides within this box that they, being held
by a spring, shall lie so snug as not to be notice-
able to the ordinary eye? Can it be so arranged
that, when the box is locked, they shall fall flat
upon the bottom, thus covering and holding fast
what lies beneath them, and yet making the box
appear to the eye as if it were empty. Is it
possible for thee to do such a thing P”
Wajib Baksh did not reply for a few mo-
ments. His instinct told him what his master
wanted, and he was not disposed to answer
hastily, for he also saw that his reputation as


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMONDS 73
the most cunning craftsman in India was at
stake.
“If the Heaven-born will permit me the
night for thought,” he said at last, “I will come
to him when he rises from his bed and tell him
what I can do, and he can then give his orders
as it pleases him.”
“Very good,” said Carne. “Then to-morrow
morning I shall expect thy report. Let the
work be good, and there will be many rupees
for thee to touch in return. As to the lock
and the way it shall act, let that be the con-
cern of Hiram Singh.”
Wajib Baksh salaamed and withdrew, and
Simon Carne for the time being dismissed the
matter from his mind.
Next morning, while he was dressing, Belton
reported that the two artificers desired an in-
terview with him. He ordered them to be ad-
mitted, and forthwith they entered the room.
It was noticeable that Wajib Baksh carried in
his hand a heavy box, which, upon Carne's
motioning him to do so, he placed upon the
table.
“Have ye thought over the matter?” he
asked, seeing that the men waited for him to
speak.
“We have thought of it,” replied Hiram
Singh, who always acted as spokesman for


74 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
the pair. “If the Presence will deign to look,
he will see that we have made a box of the
size and shape such as he drew upon the
paper.”
“Yes, it is certainly a good copy,” said Carne
condescendingly, after he had examined it.
Wajib Baksh showed his white teeth in
appreciation of the compliment, and Hiram
Singh drew closer to the table.
“And now, if the Sahib will open it, he will
in his wisdom be able to tell if it resembles the
other that he has in his mind.”
Carne opened the box as requested, and dis-
covered that the interior was an exact counter-
feit of the Duchess of Wiltshire's jewel case,
even to the extent of the quilted leather lining
which had been the other's principal feature.
He admitted that the likeness was all that
could be desired.
“As he is satisfied,” said Hiram Singh, “it
may be that the Protector of the Poor will
deign to try an experiment with it. See, here
is a comb. Let it be placed in the box, so—
now he will see what he will see.”
The broad, silver-backed comb, lying upon
his dressing-table, was placed on the bottom of
the box, the lid was closed, and the key turned
in the lock. The case being securely fastened,
Hiram Singh laid it before his master.


THE DUCHESS's DIAMONDS 75
“I am to open it, I suppose P” said Carne,
taking the key and replacing it in the lock.
“If my master pleases,” replied the other.
Carne accordingly turned it in the lock, and,
having done so, raised the lid and looked in-
side. His astonishment was complete. To
all intents and purposes the box was empty.
The comb was not to be seen, and yet the
quilted sides and bottom were, to all appear-
ances, just the same as when he had first
looked inside.
“This is most wonderful,” he said. And
indeed it was as clever a conjuring trick as
any he had ever seen.
“Nay, it is very simple,” Wajib Baksh re-
plied. “The Heaven-born told me that there
must be no risk of detection.”
He took the box in his own hands and,
running his nails down the centre of the quilt-
ing, dividing the false bottom into two pieces;
these he lifted out, revealing the comb lying
upon the real bottom beneath.
“The sides, as my lord will see,” said Hiram
Singh, taking a step forward, “are held in
their appointed places by these two springs.
Thus, when the key is turned the springs re-
lax, and the sides are driven by others into
their places on the bottom, where the seams in
the quilting mask the join. There is but one


76 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
disadvantage. It is as follows : When the
pieces which form the bottom are lifted out in
order that my lord may get at whatever lies
concealed beneath, the springs must of neces-
sity stand revealed. However, to any one who
knows sufficient of the working of the box to
lift out the false bottom, it will be an easy
matter to withdraw the springs and conceal
them about his person.”
“As you say that is an easy matter,” said
Carne, “and I shall not be likely to forget.
Now one other question. Presuming I am in
a position to put the real box into your hands
for say eight hours, do you think that in that
time you can fit it up so that detection will be
impossible?”
“Assuredly, my lord,” replied Hiram Singh
with conviction. “There is but the lock and
the fitting of the springs to be done. Three
hours at most would suffice for that.”
“I am pleased with you," said Carne. “As
a proof of my satisfaction, when the work is
finished you will each receive five hundred
rupees. Now you can go.”
According to his promise, ten o'clock on the
Friday following found him in his hansom
driving towards Belgrave Square. He was a
little anxious, though the casual observer would
scarcely have been able to tell it. The magni-


THE DUCHESS'S DIAMOWDS 77
tude of the stake for which he was playing was
enough to try the nerve of even such a past
master in his profession as Simon Carne.
Arriving at the house he discovered some
workmen erecting an awning across the foot-
way in preparation for the ball that was to
take place at night. It was not long, how-
ever, before he found himself in the boudoir,
reminding Her Grace of her promise to permit
him an opportunity of making a drawing of the
famous jewel case. The Duchess was naturally
busy, and within a quarter of an hour he was
on his way home with the box placed on the
seat of the carriage beside him.
“Now,” he said, as he patted it good-
humouredly, “if only the notion worked out
by Hiram Singh and Wajib Baksh holds good,
the famous Wiltshire diamonds will become my
property before very many hours are passed.
By this time to-morrow, I suppose, London
will be all agog concerning the burglary.”
On reaching his house he left his carriage,
and himself carried the box into his study.
Once there he rang his bell and ordered Hiram
Singh and Wajib Baksh to be sent to him.
When they arrived he showed them the box
upon which they were to exercise their in-
genuity.
“Bring your tools in here,” he said, “and


78 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
do the work under my own eyes. You have
but nine hours before you, so you must make
the most of them.”
The men went for their implements, and
as soon as they were ready set to work. All
through the day they were kept hard at it, with
the result that by five o'clock the alterations
had been effected and the case stood ready.
By the time Carne returned from his afternoon
drive in the Park it was quite prepared for
the part it was to play in his scheme. Having
praised the men, he turned them out and locked
the door, then went across the room and un-
locked a drawer in his writing table. From it
he took a flat leather jewel case, which he
opened. It contained a necklace of counter-
feit diamonds, if anything a little larger than
the one he intended to try to obtain. He had
purchased it that morning in the Burlington
Arcade for the purpose of testing the apparatus
his servants had made, and this he now pro-
ceeded to do.
Laying it carefully upon the bottom he
closed the lid and turned the key. When he
opened it again the necklace was gone, and
even though he knew the secret he could not
for the life of him see where the false bottom
began and ended. After that he reset the trap
and tossed the necklace carelessly in. To his


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 79
delight it acted as well as on the previous occa-
sion. He could scarcely contain his satisfac-
tion. His conscience was sufficiently elastic
to give him no trouble. To him it was scarcely
a robbery he was planning, but an artistic trial
of skill, in which he pitted his wits and cunning
against the forces of society in general.
At half-past seven he dined, and afterwards
smoked a meditative cigar over the evening
paper in the billiard room. The invitations to
the ball were for ten o'clock, and at nine-thirty
he went to his dressing-room.
“Make me tidy as quickly as you can,” he
said to Belton when the latter appeared, “and
while you are doing so listen to my final in-
structions.
“To-night, as you know, I am endeavouring
to secure the Duchess of Wiltshire's necklace.
To-morrow morning all London will resound
with the hubbub, and I have been making my
plans in such a way as to arrange that Klimo
shall be the first person consulted. When the
messenger calls, if call he does, see that the old
woman next door bids him tell the Duke to
come personally at twelve o'clock. Do you
understand P’’
“Perfectly, sir?”
“Very good. Now give me the jewel case,
and let me be off. You need not sit up for me.”


8o A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
Precisely as the clocks in the neighbourhood
were striking ten Simon Carne reached Bel-
grave Square, and, as he hoped, found himself
the first guest.
His hostess and her husband received him
in the ante-room of the drawing-room.
“I come laden with a thousand apologies,”
he said as he took Her Grace's hand, and bent
over it with that ceremonious politeness which
was one of the man's chief characteristics. “I
am most unconscionably early, I know, but I
hastened here in order that I might personally
return the jewel case you so kindly lent me. I
must trust to your generosity to forgive me.
The drawings took longer than I expected.”
“Please do not apologise,” answered Her
Grace. “It is very kind of you to have
brought the case yourself. I hope the illus-
trations have proved successful. I shall look
forward to seeing them as soon as they are
ready. But I am keeping you holding the
box. One of my servants will take it to my
room.”
She called a footman to her, and bade him
take the box and place it upon her dressing-
table.
“Before it goes I must let you see that I
have not damaged it either externally or in-
ternally,” said Carne with a laugh. “It is


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 8I
such a valuable case that I should never for-
give myself if it had even received a scratch
during the time it has been in my posses-
sion.”
So saying he lifted the lid and allowed her
to look inside. To all appearance it was ex-
actly the same as when she had lent it to him
earlier in the day.
“You have been most careful,” she said.
And then, with an air of banter, she continued:
“If you desire it, I shall be pleased to give
you a certificate to that effect.”
They jested in this fashion for a few moments
after the servant's departure, during which time
Carne promised to call upon her the following
morning at 11 o'clock, and to bring with him
the illustrations he had made and a queer little
piece of china he had had the good fortune to
pick up in a dealer's shop the previous afternoon.
By this time fashionable London was making
its way up the grand staircase, and with its
appearance further conversation became im-
possible.
Shortly after midnight Carne bade his hostess
good-night and slipped away. He was perfectly
satisfied with his evening's entertainment, and
if the key of the jewel case were not turned
before the jewels were placed in it, he was
convinced they would become his property. It
F


82 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
speaks well for his strength of nerve when I
record the fact that on going to bed his slumbers
were as peaceful and untroubled as those of a
little child.
Breakfast was scarcely over next morning
before a hansom drew up at his front door and
Lord Amberley alighted. He was ushered
into Carne's presence forthwith, and on seeing
that the latter was surprised at his early visit,
hastened to explain.
“My dear fellow,” he said, as he took posses-
sion of the chair the other offered him, “I have
come round to see you on most important
business. As I told you last night at the
dance, when you so kindly asked me to come
and see the steam yacht you have purchased, I
had an appointment with Wiltshire at half-past
nine this morning. On reaching Belgrave
Square, I found the whole house in confusion.
Servants were running hither and thither with
scared faces, the butler was on the borders of
lunacy, the Duchess was well-nigh hysterical
in her boudoir, while her husband was in his
study vowing vengeance against all the world.”
“You alarm me,” said Carne, lighting a
cigarette with a hand that was as steady as a
rock. “What on earth has happened?”
“I think I might safely allow you fifty
guesses and then wager a hundred pounds


THE DUCHESS'S DIAMOWDS 83
you'd not hit the mark; and yet in a certain
measure it concerns you.”
“Concerns me? Good gracious ! What
have I done to bring all this about?”
“Pray do not look so alarmed,” said Am-
berley. “Personally you have done nothing.
Indeed, on second thoughts, I don't know that
I am right in saying that it concerns you at all.
The fact of the matter is, Carne, a burglary
took place last night at Wiltshire House, and
the famous necklace has disappeared.”
“Good heavens ! You don't say so?”
“But I do. The circumstances of the case
are as follows: When my cousin retired to
her room last night after the ball, she un-
clasped the necklace, and, in her husband's
presence, placed it carefully in her jewel case,
which she locked. That having been done,
Wiltshire took the box to the room which con-
tained the safe, and himself placed it there,
locking the iron door with his own key. The
room was occupied that night, according to
custom, by the butler and one of the foot-
men, both of whom have been in the family
since they were boys.
“Next morning, after breakfast, the Duke
unlocked the safe and took out the box, intend-
ing to convey it to the Bank as usual.
Before leaving, however, he placed it on his


84 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
study-table and went upstairs to speak to his
wife. He cannot remember exactly how long
he was absent, but he feels convinced that he
was not gone more than a quarter of an hour
at the very utmost.
“Their conversation finished, she accom-
panied him downstairs, where she saw him
take up the case to carry it to his carriage.
Before he left the house, however, she said:
“I suppose you have looked to see that the
necklace is all right?’ ‘How could I do
so P’ was his reply. “You know you possess
the only key that will fit it?’
“She felt in her pockets, but to her surprise
the key was not there.”
“If I were a detective I should say that that
is a point to be remembered,” said Carne with
a smile. “Pray, where did she find her keys P”
“Upon her dressing-table,” said Amberley.
“Though she has not the slightest recollection
of leaving them there.” -
“Well, when she had procured the keys,
what happened P”
“Why, they opened the box, and, to their
astonishment and dismay, found it empty. The
jewels were gone / "
“Good gracious ! What a terrible loss! It
seems almost impossible that it can be true.
And pray, what did they do?”


THE DUCHESS'S DIAMOWDS 85
“At first they stood staring into the empty
box, hardly believing the evidence of their own
eyes. Stare how they would, however, they
could not bring them back. The jewels had,
without doubt, disappeared, but when and where
the robbery had taken place it was impossible
to say. After that they had up all the servants
and questioned them, but the result was what
they might have foreseen, no one from the
butler to the kitchenmaid could throw any
light upon the subject. To this minute it
remains as great a mystery as when they first
discovered it.”
“I am more concerned than I can tell you,”
said Carne. “How thankful I ought to be
that I returned the case to Her Grace last
night. But in thinking of myself I am forget-
ting to ask what has brought you to me. If I
can be of any assistance I hope you will
command me.”
“Well, I'll tell you why I have come,”
replied Lord Amberley. “Naturally, they are
most anxious to have the mystery solved
and the jewels recovered as soon as possible.
Wiltshire wanted to send to Scotland Yard
there and then, but his wife and I eventually
persuaded him to consult Klimo. As you
know, if the police authorities are called in
first, he refuses the business altogether. Now,


86 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
we thought, as you are his next door neigh-
bour, you might possibly be able to assist
UlS.
“You may be very sure, my lord, I will do
everything that lies in my power. Let us go
in and see him at once.”
As he spoke he rose and threw what re-
mained of his cigarette into the fireplace. His
visitor having imitated his example, they
procured their hats and walked round from
Park Lane into Belverton Street to bring up
at No. 1. After they had rung the bell the
door was opened to them by the old woman
who invariably received the detective's clients.
“Is Mr. Klimo at home P” asked Carne.
“And if so, can we see him P”
The old lady was a little deaf, and the
question had to be repeated before she could
be made to understand what was wanted.
As soon, however, as she realized their desire,
she informed them that her master was absent
from town, but would be back as usual at
twelve o'clock to meet his clients.
“What on earth's to be done?” said the
Earl, looking at his companion in dismay.
“I am afraid I can't come back again, as I
have a most important appointment at that
hour.”
“Do you think you could entrust the business


THE DUCHESS'S DIAMOWDS 87
to me?” asked Carne. “If so, I will make
a point of seeing him at twelve o'clock, and
could call at Wiltshire House afterwards and
tell the Duke what I have done.”
“That's very good of you,” replied Amberley.
“If you are sure it would not put you to too
much trouble, that would be quite the best
thing to be done.”
“I will do it with pleasure,” Carne replied.
“I feel it my duty to help in whatever way I
can.”
“You are very kind,” said the other.
“Then, as I understand it, you are to call
upon Klimo at twelve o'clock, and afterwards
to let my cousins know what you have succeed-
ed in doing. I only hope he will help us to
secure the thief. We are having too many of
these burglaries just now. I must catch this
hansom and be off. Good-bye, and many
thanks.”
“Good-bye,” said Carne, and shook him by
the hand.
The hansom having rolled away, Carne
retraced his steps to his own abode.
“It is really very strange,” he muttered as
he walked along, “how often chance conde-
scends to lend her assistance to my little
schemes. The mere fact that His Grace left
the box unwatched in his study for a quarter of


88 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
an hour may serve to throw the police off on
quite another scent. I am also glad that they
decided to open the case in the house, for if it
had gone to the bankers' and had been placed
in the strong room unexamined, I should never
have been able to get possession of the jewels
at all.”
Three hours later he drove to Wiltshire
House and saw the Duke. The Duchess was
far too much upset by the catastrophe to see
any one.
“This is really most kind of you, Mr.
Carne,” said His Grace when the other had
supplied an elaborate account of his interview
with Klimo. “We are extremely indebted to
you. I am sorry he cannot come before ten
o'clock to-night, and that he makes this
stipulation of my seeing him alone, for I must
confess I should like to have had some one else
present to ask any questions that might escape
me. But if that's his usual hour and custom,
well, we must abide by it, that's all. I hope he
will do some good, for this is the greatest
calamity that has ever befallen me. As I told
you just now, it has made my wife quite ill.
She is confined to her bedroom and quite
hysterical.”
“You do not suspect any one, I suppose 2"
inquired Carne.


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 89
!
“Not a soul,” the other answered. “The
thing is such a mystery that we do not know
what to think. I feel convinced, however, that
my servants are as innocent as I am. Nothing
will ever make me think them otherwise. I
wish I could catch the fellow, that's all. I'd
make him suffer for the trick he's played me.”
Carne offered an appropriate reply, and after
a little further conversation upon the subject,
bade the irate nobleman good-bye and left the
house. From Belgrave Square he drove to
one of the clubs of which he had been elected
a member, in search of Lord Orpington, with
whom he had promised to lunch, and after-
wards took him to a ship-builder's yard near
Greenwich, in order to show him the steam
yacht he had lately purchased.
It was close upon dinner time before he
returned to his own residence. He brought
Lord Orpington with him, and they dined in
state together. At nine the latter bade him
good-bye, and at ten Carne retired to his
dressing-room and rang for Belton.
“What have you to report,” he asked, “with
regard to what I bade you do in Belgrave
Square 2"
“I followed your instructions to the letter,”
Belton replied. “Yesterday morning I wrote
to Messrs. Horniblow and Jimson, the house


90 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
agents in Piccadilly, in the name of Colonel
Braithwaite, and asked for an order to view the
residence to the right of Wiltshire House. I
asked that the order might be sent direct to the
house, where the Colonel would get it upon his
arrival. This letter I posted myself in Basing-
stoke, as you desired me to do.
“At nine o'clock yesterday morning I dressed
myself as much like an elderly army officer as
possible, and took a cab to Belgrave Square.
The caretaker, an old fellow of close upon
seventy years of age, admitted me immediately
upon hearing my name, and proposed that he
should show me over the house. This, how-
ever, I told him was quite unnecessary, backing
my speech with a present of half a crown,
whereupon he returned to his breakfast perfectly
satisfied, while I wandered about the house at
my own leisure.
“Reaching the same floor as that upon which
is situated the room in which the Duke's safe is
kept, I discovered that your supposition was
quite correct, and that it would be possible for
a man, by opening the window, to make his
way along the coping from one house to the
other, without being seen. I made certain that
there was no one in the bedroom in which the
butler slept, and then arranged the long tele-
scope walking-stick you gave me, and fixed one


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 9I
of my boots to it by means of the screw in the
end. With this I was able to make a regular
succession of footsteps in the dust along the
ledge, between one window and the other.
“That done, I went downstairs again, bade
the caretaker good-morning, and got into my
cab. From Belgrave Square I drove to the
shop of the pawnbroker whom you told me you
had discovered was out of town. His assistant
inquired my business, and was anxious to do
what he could for me. I told him, however,
that I must see his master personally, as it was
about the sale of some diamonds I had had left
me. I pretended to be annoyed that he was
not at home, and muttered to myself, so that
the man could hear, something about its mean-
ing a journey to Amsterdam.
“Then I limped out of the shop, paid off my
cab, and, walking down a by-street, removed
my moustache, and altered my appearance by
taking off my great coat and muffler. A few
streets further on I purchased a bowler hat in
place of the old-fashioned topper I had hitherto
been wearing, and then took a cab from
Piccadilly and came home.”
“You have fulfilled my instructions admir-
ably,” said Carne. “And if the business comes
off, as I expect it will, you shall receive your
usual percentage. Now I must be turned into


92 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
Klimo and be off to Belgrave Square to put
His Grace of Wiltshire upon the track of this
burglar.”
Before he retired to rest that night Simon
Carne took something, wrapped in a red silk
handkerchief, from the capacious pocket of the
coat Klimo had been wearing a few moments
before. Having unrolled the covering, he held
up to the light the magnificent necklace which
for so many years had been the joy and pride
of the ducal house of Wiltshire. The electric
light played upon it, and touched it with a
thousand different hues.”
“Where so many have failed,” he said to
himself, as he wrapped it in the handkerchief
again and locked it in his safe, “it is pleasant
to be able to congratulate oneself on having
succeeded. It is without its equal, and I don't
think I shall be over-stepping the mark if I say
that I think when she receives it Liz will be
glad she lent me the money.”
Next morning all London was astonished
by the news that the famous Wiltshire diamonds
had been stolen, and a few hours later Carne
learnt from an evening paper that the detectives
who had taken up the case, upon the supposed
retirement from it of Klimo, were still com-
pletely at fault.
That evening he was to entertain several


THE DUCHESS’S DIAMOWDS 93
friends to dinner. They included Lord Am-
berley, Lord Orpington, and a prominent
member of the Privy Council. Lord Amberley
arrived late, but filled to overflowing with
importance. His friends noticed his state, and
questioned him.
“Well, gentlemen,” he answered, as he took
up a commanding position upon the drawing-
room hearthrug, “I am in a position to inform
you that Klimo has reported upon the case, and
the upshot of it is that the Wiltshire Diamond
Mystery is a mystery no longer.”
“What do you mean P” asked the others in
a chorus.
“I mean that he sent in his report to Wilt-
shire this afternoon, as arranged. From what
he said the other night, after being alone in
the room with the empty jewel case and a
magnifying glass for two minutes or so, he was
in a position to describe the modus operandi,
and, what is more, to put the police on the scent
of the burglar.”
“And how was it worked P” asked Carne.
“From the empty house next door,” replied
the other. “On the morning of the burglary
a man, purporting to be a retired army officer,
called with an order to view, got the caretaker
out of the way, clambered along to Wiltshire
House by means of the parapet outside,


94 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
reached the room during the time the servants
were at breakfast, opened the safe, and ab-
stracted the jewels.”
“But how did Klimo find all this out 2"
asked Lord Orpington.
“By his own inimitable cleverness,” replied
Lord Amberley. “At any rate it has been
proved that he was correct. The man did
make his way from next door, and the police
have since discovered that an individual,
answering to the description given, visited a
pawnbroker's shop in the city about an hour
later, and stated that he had diamonds to sell.”
“If that is so it turns out to be a very simple
mystery after all,” said Lord Orpington as
they began their meal.
“Thanks to the ingenuity of the cleverest
detective in the world,” remarked Amberley.
“In that case here's a good health to Klimo,”
said the Privy Councillor, raising his glass.
“I will join you in that,” said Simon Carne.
“Here's a very good health to Klimo and his
connection with the Duchess of Wiltshire's
diamonds. May he always be equally success-
full ”
“Hear, hear to that,” replied his guests.


II
How Simon Carne Won the Derby
T was seven o'clock on one of the brightest
mornings of all that year. The scene was
Waterloo Station, where the Earl of Amberley,
Lord Orpington, and the Marquis of Laver-
stock were pacing up and down the main line
departure platform, gazing anxiously about
them. It was evident, from the way they
scrutinised every person who approached
them, that they were on the look-out for some
one. This some one ultimately proved to be
Simon Carne, who, when he appeared, greeted
them with considerable cordiality, at the same
time apologising for his lateness in joining
them.
“I think this must be our train,” he said,
pointing to the carriages drawn up beside the
platform on which they stood. “At any rate,
here is my man. By dint of study he has
turned himself into a sort of walking Brad-
95


96 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
shaw, and he will certainly be able to inform
us.”
The inimitable Belton deferentially in-
sinuated that his master was right in his
conjecture, and then led the way towards a
Pullman car, which had been attached to the
train for the convenience of Carne and his
guests. They took their seats, and a few
moments later the train moved slowly out of
the station. Carne was in the best of spirits,
and the fact that he was taking his friends
down to the stables of his trainer, William
Bent, in order that they might witness a trial
of his candidate for the Derby, seemed to give
him the greatest possible pleasure.
On reaching Merford, the little wayside
station nearest the village in which the train-
ing stables were situated, they discovered a
comfortable four-wheeled conveyance drawn up
to receive them. The driver touched his hat,
and stated that his master was awaiting them
on the Downs; this proved to be the case, for
when they left the high road and turned on to
the soft turf they saw before them a string of
thoroughbreds, and the trainer himself mounted
upon his well-known white pony, Columbine.
“Good-morning, Bent,” said Carne, as the
latter rode up and lifted his hat to himself and
friends. “You see we have kept our promise,


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBY 97
and are here to witness the trial you said you
had arranged for us.”
“I am glad to see you, sir,” Bent replied.
“And I only hope that what I am about to
show you will prove of service to you. The
horse is as fit as mortal hands can make him,
and if he don't do his best for you next week
there will be one person surprised in England,
and that one will be myself. As you know, sir,
the only horse I dread is Vulcanite, and the fact
cannot be denied that he's a real clinker.”
“Well,” said Carne, “when we have seen
our animal gallop we shall know better how
much trust we are to place in him. For my
own part I'm not afraid. Vulcanite, as you
say, is a good horse, but, if I'm not mistaken,
Knight of Malta is a better. Surely this is he
coming towards us.”
“That's him,” said the trainer, with a fine
disregard for grammar. “There's no mistaking
him, is there 2 And now, if you'd care to stroll
across we'll see them saddle.”
The party accordingly descended from the
carriage, and walked across the turf to the
spot where the four thoroughbreds were being
divested of their sheets. They made a pretty
group; but even the most inexperienced critic
could scarcely have failed to pick out Knight
of Malta as the best among them. He was a
G


98 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
tall, shapely bay, with black points, a trifle
light of flesh perhaps, but with clean, flat legs,
and low, greyhound-like thighs, sure evidence
of the enormous propelling power he was
known to possess. His head was perfection
itself, though a wee bit too lop-eared if any-
thing. Taken altogether, he looked, what he
was, thoroughbred every inch of him. The
others of the party were Gasometer, Hydrogen,
and Young Romeo, the last named being the
particular trial horse of the party. It was a
favourite boast of the trainer that the last
named was so reliable in his habits, his condi-
tion, and his pace, that you would not be far
wrong if you were to set your watch by him.
“By the way, Bent,” said Carne, as the boys
were lifted into their saddles, “what weights
are the horses carrying?”
“Well, sir, Young Romeo carries 8st. 91b. ;
Gasometer, 7st. 81b.; Hydrogen, 7st. Ilb.; and
the Knight, 9st. 111b. The distance will be the
Epsom course, one mile and a half, and the
best horse to win. Now, sir, if you're ready
we'll get to work.”
He turned to the lad who was to ride Hy-
drogen.
“Once you are off you will make the running,
and bring them along at your best pace to the
dip, where Gasometer will, if possible, take it


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBY 99
up. After that I leave it to you other boys to
make the best race of it you can. You, Blunt,”
calling up his head lad, “go down with them
to the post, and get them off to as good a start
as possible.”
The horses departed, and Simon Carne and
his friends accompanied the trainer to a spot
where they would see the finish to the best
advantage. Five minutes later an ejaculation
from Lord Orpington told them that the horses
had started. Each man accordingly clapped
his glasses to his eyes, and watched the race
before them. Faithful to his instructions, the
lad on Hydrogen came straight to the front,
and led them a cracker until they descended
into the slight dip which marked the end of
the first half-mile.
Then he retired to the rear, hopelessly done
for, and Gasometer took up the running, with
Knight of Malta close alongside him, and
Young Romeo only half a length away. As
they passed the mile post Young Romeo shot
to the front, but it soon became evident he had
not come to stay. Good horse as he was,
there was a better catching him hand over fist.
The pace was all that could be desired, and
when Knight of Malta swept past the group,
winner of the trial by more than his own
length, the congratulations §§ Carne re-
{}38B


IOO A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
ceived were as cordial as he could possibly
desire.
“What did I tell you, sir?” said Bent, with
a smile of satisfaction upon his face. “You
see what a good horse he is. There's no
mistake about that.”
“Well, let us hope he will do as well a week
hence,” Carne replied simply, as he replaced
his glasses in their case.
“Amen to that,” remarked Lord Orpington.
“And now, gentlemen,” said the trainer, “if
you will allow me, I will drive you over to my
place to breakfast.”
They took their places in the carriage once
more, and, Bent having taken the reins, in a
few moments they were bowling along the high
road towards a neat modern residence standing
on a slight eminence on the edge of the Downs.
This was the trainer's own place of abode, the
stables containing his many precious charges
lying a hundred yards or so to the rear.
They were received on the threshold by the
trainer's wife, who welcomed them most heartily
to Merford. The keen air of the Downs had
sharpened their appetites, and when they sat
down to table they found they were able to
do full justice to the excellent fare provided ,
for them. The meal at an end, they inspected
the stables, once more carefully examining the


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBy IoI
Derby candidate, who seemed none the worse
for his morning's exertion, and then Carne left
his guests in the big yard to the enjoyment of
their cigars, while he accompanied his trainer
into the house for a few moments' chat.
“And now sit down, sir,” said Bent, when
they reached his own sanctum, a cosy apart-
ment, half sitting-room and half office, bearing
upon its walls innumerable mementoes of cir-
cumstances connected with the owner's lengthy
turf experiences. “I hope you are satisfied
with what you saw this morning P”
“Perfectly satisfied,” said Carne, “but I
should like to hear exactly what you think
about the race itself.”
“Well, sir, as you may imagine, I have been
thinking a good deal about it lately, and this is
the cónclusion I have come to. If this were
an ordinary year, I should say that we possess
out and away the best horse in the race; but
we must remember that this is not by any
means an ordinary year—there's Vulcanite, who
they tell me is in the very pink of condition,
and who has beaten our horse each time they
have met; there's the Mandarin, who won the
Two Thousand this week, and who will be
certain to come into greater favour as the time
shortens, and The Filibuster, who won the
Biennial Stakes at the Craven Meeting, a nice


IO2 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
enough horse, though I must say I don't fancy
him over much myself.”
“I take it, then, that the only horse you really
fear is Vulcanite?”
“That's so, sir. If he were not in the list,
I should feel as certain of seeing you leading
your horse back a winner as any man could
well be.”
On looking at his watch Carne discovered
that it was time for him to rejoin his friends
and be off to the railway station if they desired
to catch the train which they had arranged
should convey them back to town. So bidding
the trainer and his wife good-bye, they took
their places in the carriage once more, and
were driven away.
Arriving at Waterloo, they drove to Lord
Orpington's club to lunch.
“Do you know you're a very lucky fellow,
Carne?” said the Earl of Amberley as they
stood on the steps of that institution after-
wards, before separating in pursuit of the
pleasures of the afternoon. “You have health,
wealth, fame, good looks, one of the finest
houses in London, and now one of the pro-
spective winners of the Derby. In fact, you
only want one thing to make your existence
perfect.”
“And what is that 2" asked Carne.


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBY 103
“A wife,” replied Lord Amberley. “I
wonder the girls have let you escape so
long.”
“I am not a marrying man,” said Carne;
“how could a fellow like myself, who is here
to-day and gone to-morrow, expect any woman
to link her lot with his P Do you remember
our first meeting P”
“Perfectly,” replied Lord Amberley. “When
I close my eyes I can see that beautiful marble
palace, set in its frame of blue water, as plainly
as if it were but yesterday I breakfasted with
you there.”
“That was a very fortunate morning for
me,” said the other. “And now here is my
cab. I must be off. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” cried his friends, as he went
down the steps and entered the vehicle.
“Don't forget to let us know if anything
further turns up.”
“I will be sure to do so,” said Simon Carne,
and then, as he laid himself back on the soft
cushions and was driven by way of Waterloo
Place to Piccadilly, he added to himself, “Yes,
if I can bring off the little scheme I have in
my mind, and one or two others which I am
preparing, and can manage to get out of Eng-
land without any one suspecting that I am the
burglar who has outwitted all London, I shall


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBy 105
“The public excitement,” he said to himself,
not without a small touch of pride, “has as
yet scarcely cooled down from the robbery of
the famous Wiltshire jewels. Lord Orpington
has not as yet discovered the whereabouts of
the gold and silver plate which disappeared
from his house so mysteriously a week or two
ago, while several other people have done their
best to catch a gang of burglars who would
seem to have set all London at defiance. But
if I bring off this new coup, they'll forget all
their grievances in consideration of the latest
and greatest scandal. There'll be scarcely a
man in England who won't have something to
say upon the subject. By the way, let me see
how he stands in the betting to-night.”
He took a paper from the table in the win-
dow, and glanced down the sporting column.
Vulcanite was evidently the public's choice,
Knight of Malta being only second favourite,
with The Mandarin a strong third.
“What a hubbub there will be when it
becomes known,” said Carne, as he placed
the paper on the table again. “I shall have
to take especial care, or some of the storm may
blow back on me. I fancy I can hear the
newsboys shouting : “Latest news of the turf
scandal. The Derby favourite stolen. Vul-
canite missing. An attempt made to get at


IO6 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
Knight of Malta.’ Why I It will be twenty
years before old England will forget the sen-
sation I am about to give her.”
With a grim chuckle at the idea, he went
upstairs to his dressing-room and locked the
door. It must have been well after nine
o'clock when he emerged again, and, clad in
a long ulster, left the house in his private
hansom. Passing down Park Lane he drove
along Piccadilly, then by way of the Hay-
market, Strand, Ludgate Hill, and Fenchurch
Street to the Whitechapel Road. Reaching
the corner of Leman Street, he signalled to his
man to stop, and jumped out.
His appearance was now entirely changed.
Instead of the deformed, scholar-like figure he
usually presented, he now resembled a com-
mon-place, farmerish individual, with iron grey
hair, a somewhat crafty face, ornamented with
bushy eyebrows and a quantity of fluffy
whiskers. How he had managed it as he
drove along goodness only knows, but that he
had effected the change was certain.
Having watched his cab drive away, he
strolled along the street until he arrived at a
building, the flaring lights of which proclaimed
it the Seven Stars Music Hall. He paid his
money at the box office, and then walked
inside to find a fair-sized building, upon the


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBy 107
floor of which were placed possibly a hundred
small tables. On the stage at the further
end a young lady, boasting a minimum of
clothing and a maximum of self-assurance,
was explaining, to the dashing accompaniment
of the orchestra, the adventures she had
experienced “When Billy and me was court-
ing.”
Acting up to his appearance, Carne called
for a “two of Scotch cold,” and, having lit a
meerschaum pipe which he took from his
waistcoat pocket, prepared to make himself at
home. As ten o'clock struck he turned his
chair a little, in order that he might have a
better view of the door, and waited.
Five minutes must have elapsed before his
patience was rewarded. Then two men came
in together, and immediately he saw them he
turned his face in an opposite direction, and
seemed to be taking an absorbing interest in
what was happening upon the stage.
One of the men who had entered, and whom
he had seemed to recognise—a cadaverous-
looking individual in a suit of clothes a size
too small for him, a velvet waistcoat at least
three sizes too large, a check tie, in which
was stuck an enormous horseshoe pin com-
posed of palpably imitation diamonds, boasting
no shirt as far as could be seen, and wearing


Io8 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
upon his head a top hat of a shape that had
been fashionable in the early sixties—stopped,
and placed his hand upon his shoulder.
“Mr. Blenkins, or I'm a disy,” he said.
“Well, who'd ha’ thought of seeing you here
of all places? Why, it was only this after-
noon as me and my friend, Mr. Brown here,
was a-speaking of you. To think as how you
should ha’ come up to London just this very
time, and be at the Seven Stars Music Hall,
of all other places! It's like what the noos-
papers call a go-insidence, drat me if it ain't.
'Ow are yer, old pal P”
He extended his hand, which Mr. Blenkins
took, and shook with considerable cordiality.
After that, Mr. Brown, who from outward
appearances was by far the most respectable
of the trio, was introduced in the capacity of
a gentleman from America, a citizenship that
became more apparent when he opened his
mouth to speak.
“And what was 'ee speaking of I about 2"
asked Mr. Blenkins, when the trio were com-
fortably seated at table.
This the diffident Mr. Jones, for by that
commonplace appellative the seedy gentleman
with the magnificent diamonds chose to be
called, declined to state. It would appear that
he was willing to discuss the news of the day,


HOW SIMON CARNE WON THE DERBY 109
the price of forage, the prospects of war,
the programme proceeding upon the stage, in
fact, anything rather than declare the subject
of his conversation with Mr. Brown that after-
In OOn.
It was not until Mr. Brown happened to
ask Mr. Blenkins what horse he fancied for
the Derby that Mr. Jones in any degree re-
covered his self-possession. Then an animated
discussion on the forthcoming race was entered
upon. How long it would have lasted had
not Mr. Jones presently declared that the
music of the orchestra was too much for him,
I cannot say.
Thereupon Mr. Brown suggested that they
should leave the Hall and proceed to a place
of which he knew in a neighbouring street.
This they accordingly did, and when they were
safely installed in a small room off the bar,
Mr. Jones, having made certain that there was
no one near enough to overhear, unlocked his
powers of conversation with whisky and water,
and proceeded to speak his mind.
For upwards of an hour they remained
closeted in the room together, conversing in
an undertone. Then the meeting broke up,
Mr. Blenkins bidding his friends “good-
night” before they left the house.
From the outward appearances of the party,


IIO A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
if in these days of seedy millionaires and
overdressed bankrupts one may venture to
judge by them, he would have been a specu-
lative individual who would have given a five
pound note for the worldly wealth of the trio.
Yet, had you taken so much trouble, you might
have followed Mr. Blenkins and have seen him
picked up by a smart private hansom at the
corner of Leman Street. You might then have
gone back to the “Hen and Feathers,” and
have followed Mr. Brown as far as Osborn
Street, and have seen him enter a neat
brougham, which was evidently his own private
property. Another hansom, also a private one,
met Mr. Jones in the same thoroughfare, and
an hour later two of the number were in Park
Lane, while the third was discussing a bottle
of Heidseck in a gorgeous private sitting-
room on the second floor of the Langham
Hotel.
As he entered his dressing-room on his
return to Porchester House, Simon Carne
glanced at his watch. It was exactly twelve
o'clock.
“I hope Belton will not be long,” he said
to himself. “Give him a quarter of an hour
to rid himself of the other fellow, and say half
an hour to get home. In that case he should
be here within the next few minutes.”


HOW SIMON CARWE WOW THE DERBY III
The thought had scarcely passed through
his brain before there was a deferential knock
at the door, and next moment Belton, clad in a
long great coat, entered the room.
“You're back sooner than I expected,” said
Carne. “You could not have stayed very
long with our friend ?”
“I left him soon after you did, sir,” said
Belton. “He was in a hurry to get home,
and as there was nothing more to settle I did
not attempt to prevent him. I trust you are
satisfied, sir, with the result of our adventure.”
“Perfectly satisfied,” said Carne. “To-
morrow I'll make sure that he's good for the
money, and then we'll get to work. In the
meantime you had better see about a van and
the furniture of which I spoke to you, and also
engage a man upon whom you can rely."
“But what about Merford, sir, and the
attempt upon Knight of Malta ?”
“I’ll see about that on Monday. I have
promised Bent to spend the night there.”
“You'll excuse my saying so, sir, I hope,”
said Belton, as he poured out his master's hot
water and laid his dressing-gown upon the
back of a chair, ready for him to put on, “but
it's a terrible risky business. If we don't bring
it off, there'll be such a noise in England as
has never been heard before. You might


II 2 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
murder the Prime Minister, I believe, and it
wouldn't count for so much with the people
generally as an attempt to steal the Derby
favourite.”
“But we shall not fail,” said Carne con-
fidently. “By this time you ought to know
me better than to suppose that. No, no, never
fear, Belton; I've got all my plans cut and
dried, and even if we fail to get possession of
Vulcanite, the odds are a thousand to one
against our being suspected of any complicity
in the matter. Now you can go to bed. Good-
night.”
“Good-night, sir,” said Belton respectfully,
and left the room.
It was one of Simon Carne's peculiarities
always to fulfil his engagements in spite of
any inconvenience they might cause himself.
Accordingly the four o'clock train from
Waterloo, on the Monday following the meet-
ing at the Music Hall just narrated, carried
him to Merford in pursuance of the promise
he had given his trainer.
Reaching the little wayside station on the
edge of the Downs, he alighted, to find him-
self welcomed by his trainer, who lifted his
hat respectfully, and wished him good after-
In OO11.
During the drive, Carne spoke of the im-


II4 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
stand exactly how you feel, sir. It's quite
natural. And now here we are, with the
missis standing on the steps to help me give
you a hearty welcome.”
They drove up to the door, and when Carne
had alighted he was received by the trainer's
wife as her lord and master had predicted.
His bedroom he discovered, on being con-
ducted to it to prepare for dinner, was at the
back of the house, overlooking the stableyard,
and possessed a lovely view, extending across
the gardens and village towards where the
Downs ended and the woods of Herberford
began.
“A pretty room,” he said to Belton, as the
latter laid out his things upon the bed, “and
very convenient for our purpose. Have you
discovered where you are located P”
“Next door, sir.”
“I am glad of that ; and what room is
beneath us?”
“The kitchen and pantry, sir. With the
exception of one at the top of the house, there
are no other bedrooms on this side.”
“That is excellent news. Now get me
ready as soon as you can.”
During dinner that evening Simon Carne
made himself as pleasant as possible to his
host and hostess. So affable, indeed, was he


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBY 115
that when they retired to rest they confessed
to each other that they had never entertained
a more charming guest. It was arranged that
he should be called at five o'clock on the
morning following, in order that he might
accompany the trainer to the Downs to see his
horse at his exercise.
It was close upon eleven o'clock when he
dismissed his valet and threw himself upon his
bed with a novel. For upwards of two hours
he amused himself with his book; then he rose
and dressed himself in the rough suit which
his man had put out for him. Having done
so, he took a strong rope ladder from his bag,
blew out his light, and opened his window.
To attach the hooks at the end of the ropes
to the inside of the window sill, and to throw
the rest outside was the work of a moment.
Then, having ascertained that his door was
securely locked, he crawled out and descended
to the ground. Once there, he waited until
he saw Belton's light disappear, and heard his
window softly open. Next moment a small
black bag was lowered, and following it, by
means of another ladder, came the servant
himself.
“There is no time to be lost,” said Carne,
as soon as they were together. “You must
set to work on the big gates, while I do the


HOW SIMOW CARNE WOW THE DERBy 117
he divested himself of the boots, put on his
list slippers once more, and returned as
speedily as possible to the ladder, which he
mounted and drew up after him. Having
descended on the other side, he left it standing
against the wall, and hastened across the yard
towards the gates, where he found Belton just
finishing the work he had set him to do.
With the aid of a brace and bit similar to
that used by Carne upon the stable door, the
lock had been entirely removed and the gate
stood open. Belton was evidently satisfied
with his work; Carne, however, was not so
pleased. He picked up the circle of wood
and showed it to his servant. Then, taking
the bit, he inserted the screw on the reverse
side and gave it two or three turns.
“You might have ruined everything,” he
whispered, “by omitting that. The first
carpenter who looked at it would be able to
tell that the work was done from the inside.
But, thank goodness, I know a trick that will
set that right. Now then, give me the pads,
and I'll drop them by the door. Then we can
return to our rooms.”
Four large blanket pads were handed to
him, and he went quietly across and dropped
them by the stable door. After that he re-
joined Belton, and they made their way, with


II8 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
the assistance of the ladders, back to their own
IOOInS On Ce InCre.
Half an hour later Carne was wrapped in a
sweet slumber from which he did not wake
until he was aroused by a tapping at his
chamber door. It was the trainer.
“Mr. Carne,” cried Bent, in what were
plainly agitated tones, “if you could make it
convenient I should be glad to speak to you
as soon as possible.”
In something under twenty minutes he was
dressed and downstairs. He found the trainer
awaiting him in the hall, wearing a very serious
face.
“If you will stroll with me as far as the
yard, I should like to show you something,” he
said.
Carne accordingly took up his hat and fol-
lowed him out of the house.
“You look unusually serious,” said the latter,
as they crossed the garden.
“An attempt has been made to get posses-
sion of your horse.”
Carne stopped short in his walk and faced
the other.
“What did I tell you yesterday ?” he re-
marked. “I was certain that that letter was
more than an idle warning. But how do you
know that an attempt has been made 2"


HOW SIMON CARNE WON THE DERBy 119
“Come, sir, and see for yourself,” said Bent.
“I am sorry to say there is no gainsaying the
fact.”
A moment later they had reached the en-
trance to the stableyard.
“See, sir,” said Bent, pointing to a circular
hole which now existed where previously the
lock had been. “The rascals cut out the lock,
and thus gained an entry to the yard.”
He picked up the round piece of wood with
the lock still attached to it, and showed it to his
employer.
“One thing is very certain, the man who cut
this hole is a master of his trade, and is also
the possessor of fine implements.”
“So it would appear,” said Carne grimly.
“Now what else is there for me to hear 2 Is
the horse much hurt 2"
“Not a bit the worse, sir,” answered Bent.
“They didn't get in at him, you see. Some-
thing must have frightened them before they
could complete their task. Step this way, sir,
if you please, and examine the door of the box
for yourself. I have given strict orders that
nothing shall be touched until you have seen
it.”
They crossed the yard together, and ap-
proached the box in question. On the wood-
work the commencement of a circle similar to


I2O A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
that which had been completed on the yard
gates could be plainly distinguished, while on
the ground below lay four curious shaped pads,
one of which Carne picked up.
“What on earth are these things,” he asked
innocently enough.
“Their use is easily explained, sir,” answered
the trainer. “They are intended for tying over
the horse's feet, so that when he is led out of
his box his plates may make no noise upon the
stones. I'd like to have been behind 'em with
a whip when they got him out, that's all. The
double-dyed rascals to try such a trick upon a
horse in my charge!”
“I can understand your indignation,” said
Carne. “It seems to me we have had a nar-
row escape.”
“Narrow escape, or no narrow escape, I'd
have had 'em safely locked up in Merford
Police Station by this time,” replied Bent
vindictively. “And now, sir, let me show you
how they got out. As far as I can see they
must have imagined they heard somebody
coming from the house, otherwise they would
have left by the gates instead of by this
ladder.”
He pointed to the ladder, which was still
standing where Carne had placed it, and then
led him by a side door round to the other side


HOW SIMOW CARNE WOW THE DERBY I2I
of the wall. Here he pointed to some heavy
footmarks upon the turf. Carne examined
them closely.
“If the size of his foot is any criterion of his
build,” he said, “he must have been a precious
big fellow. Let me see how mine compares
with it.”
He placed his neat shoe in one of the im-
prints before him, and smiled as he noticed
how the other overlapped it.
They then made their way to the box, where
they found the animal at his breakfast. He
lifted his head and glanced round at them, bit
at the iron of the manger, and then gave a
little playful kick with one of his hind legs.
“He doesn't seem any the worse for his ad-
venture,” said Carne, as the trainer went up to
him and ran his hand over his legs.
“Not a bit,” answered the other. “He’s a
wonderfully even-tempered horse, and it takes
a lot to put him out. If his nerves had been
at all upset he wouldn't have licked up his food
as clean as he has done.”
Having given another look at him, they left
him in charge of his lad, and returned to the
house.
The gallop after breakfast confirmed their
conclusion that there was nothing the matter,
and Simon Carne returned to town ostensibly


I22 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
comforted by Bent's solemn assurance to that
effect. That afternoon Lord Calingforth, the
owner of Vulcanite, called upon him. They
had met repeatedly, and consequently were on
the most intimate terms.
“Good afternoon, Carne,” he said as he
entered the room. “I have come to condole
with you upon your misfortune, and to offer
you my warmest sympathy.”
“Why, what on earth has happened 2" asked
Carne, as he offered his visitor a cigar.
“God bless my soul, my dear fellow !
Haven't you seen the afternoon's paper ?
Why, it reports the startling news that your
stables were broken into last night, and that
my rival, Knight of Malta, was missing this
morning.”
Carne laughed.
“I wonder what they'll say next,” he said
quietly. “But don't let me appear to deceive
you. It is perfectly true that the stables were
broken into last night, but the thieves were
disturbed, and decamped just as they were
forcing the lock of The Knight's box.”
“In that case I congratulate you. What
rascally inventions some of these sporting
papers do get hold of to be sure. I'm indeed
glad to hear that it is not true. The race would
have lost half its interest if your horse were


HOW SIMON CARWE WOW THE DERBY 123
out of it. By the way, I suppose you are still
as confident as ever ?”
“Would you like to test it?”
“Very much, if you feel inclined for a bet.”
“Then I'll have a level thousand pounds
with you that my horse beats yours. Both to
start or the wager is off. Do you agree?”
“With pleasure. I'll make a note of it.”
The noble Earl jotted the bet down in his
book, and then changed the subject by in-
quiring whether Carne had ever had any
transactions with his next door neighbour,
Klimo.
“Only on one occasion,” the other replied.
“I consulted him on behalf of the Duke of
Wiltshire at the time his wife's diamonds were
stolen. To tell the truth, I was half thinking of
calling him in to see if he could find the fellow
who broke into the stables last night, but on
second thoughts I determined not to do so. I
did not want to make any more fuss about it
than I could help. But what makes you ask
about Klimo P”
“Well, to put the matter in a nutshell, there
has been a good deal of small pilfering down at
my trainer's place lately, and I want to get it
stopped.”
“If I were you I should wait till after the
race, and then have him down. If one excites


I24 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
public curiosity just now, one never knows
what will happen.”
“I think you are right. Anyhow, I'll act on
your advice. Now what do you say to coming
along to the Rooms with me to see how our
horses stand in the market? Your presence
there would do more than any number of
paper denials towards showing the fallacy of
this stupid report. Will you come 2"
“With pleasure,” said Carne, and in less
than five minutes he was sitting beside the
noble Earl in his mail phaeton, driving towards
the rooms in question.
When he got there, he found Lord Caling-
forth had stated the case very correctly. The
report that Knight of Malta had been stolen
had been widely circulated, and Carne dis-
covered that the animal was, for the moment,
almost a dead letter in the market. The pre-
sence of his owner, however, was sufficient to
stay the panic, and when he had snapped up
two or three long bets, which a few moments
before had been going begging, the horse began
steadily to rise towards his old position.
That night, when Belton waited upon his
master at bedtime, he found him, if possible,
more silent than usual. It was not until his
work was well-nigh completed that the other
spoke.


HOW SIMON CARWE WOW THE DERBY 125
“It's a strange thing, Belton,” he said, “and
you may hardly believe it, but if there were
not certain reasons to prevent me from being so
magnanimous, I would give this matter up, and
let the race be run on its merits. I don't know
that I ever took a scheme in hand with a worse
grace. However, as it can't be helped, I
suppose I must go through with it. Is the van
prepared?”
“It is quite ready, sir.”
“All the furniture arranged as I directed?”
“It is exactly as you wished, sir. I have
attended to it myself.”
“And what about the man 2 ”
“I have engaged the young fellow, sir,
who assisted me before. I know he's quick,
and I can stake my life that he's trust-
worthy.”
“I am glad to hear it. He will have need to
be. Now for my arrangements. I shall make
the attempt on Friday morning next, that is to
say, two days from now. You and the man
you have just mentioned will take the van and
horses to Market Stopford, travelling by the
goods train which, I have discovered, reaches
the town between four and five in the morning.
As soon as you are out of the station, you will
start straight away along the high road towards
Exbridge, reaching the village between five


I26 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
and six. I shall meet you in the road alongside
the third milestone on the other side, made up
for the part I am to play. Do you under-
stand P”
“Perfectly, sir.”
“That will do then. I shall go down to the
village to-morrow evening, and you will not
hear from me again until you meet me at the
place I have named. Good-night.”
“Good-night, sir.”
Now, it is a well-known fact that if you wish
to excite the anger of the inhabitants of
Exbridge village, and more particularly of any
member of the Pitman Training Establish-
ment, you have but to ask for information
concerning a certain blind beggar who put in
an appearance there towards sunset on the
Thursday preceding the Derby of 18—, and
you will do so. When that mysterious in-
dividual first came in sight he was creeping
along the dusty high road that winds across the
Downs from Market Stopford to Beaton Junc-
tion, dolorously quavering a ballad that was
intended to be, though few would have recog-
nised it, “The Wearing of the Green.”
On reaching the stables he tapped along the
wall with his stick, until he came to the gate.
Then, when he was asked his business by the
head lad, who had been called up by one of the


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBy 127
stable boys, he stated that he was starving,
and, with peculiar arts of his own, induced
them to provide him with a meal. For up-
wards of an hour he remained talking with
the lads, and then wended his way down the
hill towards the village, where he further
managed to induce the rector to permit him
to occupy one of his outhouses for the night.
After tea he went out and sat on the green,
but towards eight o'clock he crossed the stream
at the ford, and made his way up to a little
copse, which ornamented a slight eminence, on
the opposite side of the village to that upon
which the training stables were situated.
How he found his way, considering his infirm-
ity, it is difficult to say, but that he did find it
was proved by his presence there. It might
also have been noticed that when he was once
under cover of the bushes, he gave up tapping
the earth with his stick, and walked straight
enough, and without apparent hesitation, to
the stump of a tree, upon which he seated him-
self.
For some time he enjoyed the beauty of the
evening undisturbed by the presence of any
other human being. Then he heard a step
behind him, and next moment a smart-looking
stable lad parted the bushes and came into
view.


I28 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“Hullo,” said the new-comer. “So you
managed to get here first?”
“So I have,” said the old rascal, “and it's
wonderful when you come to think of it, con-
sidering my age, and what a poor old blind
chap I be. But I'm glad to find ye've managed
to get away, my lad. Now what have ye got
to say for yourself?”
“I don't know that I've got anything to say,”
replied the boy. “But this much is certain,
what you want can't be done.”
“And a fine young cockerel you are to be
sure, to crow so loud that it can't be done,” said
the old fellow, with an evil chuckle. “How
do you know it can't P”
“Because I don't see my way,” replied the
other. “It's too dangerous by a long sight.
Why, if the Guv'nor was to get wind of what
you want me to do, England itself wouldn't be
big enough to hold us both. You don't know
'im as well as I do.”
“I know him well enough for all practical
purposes,” replied the beggar. “Now, if you've
got any more objections to raise, be quick about
it. If you haven't, then I'll talk to you. You
haven't Very good then. Now, just hold
your jaw, open your ears, and listen to what
I've got to say. What time do you go to
exercise to-morrow morning 2"


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBY 129
“Nine o'clock.”
“Very good then. You go down on to the
Downs, and the Boss sends you off with Vul-
canite for a canter. What do you do? Why, ,
you go steadily enough as long as he can see
you, but directly you're round on the other side
of the hill you stick in your heels, and nip into
the wood that runs along on your right hand,
just as if your horse was bolting with you.
Once in there, you go through for half a mile
until you come to the stream, ford that, and
then cut into the next wood, riding as if the
devil himself were after you, until you reach
the path above Hangman's Hollow. Do you
know the place P”
“I reckon I ought to.”
“Well, then, you just make tracks for it.
When you get there you'll find me waiting for
you. After that I'll take over command, and
get both you and the horse out of England in
such a way that nobody will ever suspect.
Then there'll be five hundred pounds for your
trouble, a safe passage with the horse to South
America, and another five hundred the day the
nag is set ashore. There's not as much risk as
you could take between your finger and thumb,
and a lad with a spirit like yours could make a
fortune with a thousand pounds on the other
side. What have you to say now 2 "
I


I30 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“It's all very well,” replied the lad, “but
how am I to know that you'll play straight with
me P”
“What do you take me for P” said the beg-
gar indignantly, at the same time putting his
hand in his coat pocket and producing what
looked like a crumpled piece of paper. “If
you doubt me, there's something that may help
to convince you. But don't go showing it
around to-night, or you'll be giving yourself
away, and that'll mean the Stone Jug for you,
and ‘Amen” to all your hopes of a fortune.
You'll do as I wish now, I suppose?”
“I’ll do it,” said the lad sullenly, as he
crumpled the bank-note up and put it in his
pocket. “But now I must be off. Since there's
been this fuss about Knight of Malta, the
Guv'nor has us all in before eight o'clock, and
keeps the horse under lock and key, with the
head lad sleeping in the box with him.”
“Well, good-night to you, and don't you
forget about to-morrow morning; niggle the
horse about a bit just to make him impatient
like, and drop a hint that he's a bit fresh. That
will make his bolting look more feasible.
Don't leave the track while there's any one near
you, but, as soon as you do, ride like thunder
to the place I told you of. I’ll see that they're
put off the scent as to the way you've gone.”


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBy 131
“All right,” said the lad. “I don't like it,
but I suppose I'm in too deep now to draw
back. Good-night.”
“Good-night, and good luck to you.”
Once he had got rid of the youth, Carne (for
it was he) returned by another route to the rec-
tor's out-building, where he laid himself down
on the straw, and was soon fast asleep. His
slumbers lasted till nearly daybreak, when he
rose and made his way across country to the
small copse above Hangman's Hollow, on
the road from Exbridge to Beaton Junction.
Here he discovered a large van drawn up,
apparently laden with furniture both inside and
out. The horses were feeding beneath a tree,
and a couple of men were eating their break-
fast beside them. On seeing Carne, the taller
of the pair—a respectable-looking workman,
with a big brown beard—rose and touched his
hat. The other looked with astonishment at
the disreputable beggar standing before them.
“So you arrived here safely,” said Carne.
“If anything you're a little before your time.
Boil me a cup of tea, and give me something
to eat as quickly as possible, for I am nearly
famished. When you have done that, get out
the clothes I told you to bring with you, and let
me change into them. It wouldn't do for any
of the people from the village back yonder to


I32 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
be able to say afterwards that they saw me
talking with you in this rig out.”
As soon as his hunger was appeased he dis-
appeared into the wood, and dressed himself in
his new attire. Another suit of clothes, and an
apron such as might be worn by a furniture
remover's foreman, a grey wig, a short grey
beard and moustache, and a bowler hat,
changed his identity completely; indeed, when
his rags had been hidden in the hollow of a
tree, it would have been a difficult matter to
have traced any resemblance between the
respectable-looking workman eating his break-
fast and the disreputable beggar of half an
hour before.
It was close upon nine o'clock by this time,
and as soon as he realized this Carne gave the
order to put the horses to. This done, they
turned their attention to the back of the van,
and then a strange thing became apparent.
Though to all appearances, viewed from the
open doors at the end, the inside of this giant
receptacle was filled to its utmost holding
capacity with chests of drawers, chairs, bed-
steads, carpets, and other articles of household
furniture, yet by pulling a pair of handles it
was possible for two men easily to withdraw
what looked like half the contents of the
Van.


HOW SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBy 133
The poorest observer would then have
noticed that in almost every particular these
articles were dummies, affixed to a screen,
capable of being removed at a moment's
notice. The remainder of the van was fitted
after the fashion of a stable, with a manger
at the end and a pair of slings dependent from
the roof.
The nervous tension produced by the waiting
soon became almost more than the men could
bear. Minute after minute went slowly by, and
still the eagerly expected horse did not put in
an appearance. Then Belton, whom Carne
had placed on the look-out, came flying
towards them with the report that he could
hear a sound of galloping hoofs in the wood.
A few seconds later the noise could be plainly
heard at the van, and almost before they had
time to comment upon it, a magnificent
thoroughbred, ridden by the stable boy who
had talked to the blind beggar on the previous
evening, dashed into view, and pulled up beside
the van.
“Jump off,” cried Carne, catching at the
horse's head, “and remove the saddle. Now
be quick with those cloths; we must rub him
down or he'll catch cold.”
When the horse was comparatively dry he
was led into the van, which was to be his stable


134 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
for the next few hours, and, in spite of his pro-
tests, slung in such a fashion that his feet did
not touch the floor. This business completed,
Carne bade the frightened boy get in with him,
and take care that he did not, on any account,
neigh.
After that the mask of furniture was re-
placed, and the doors closed and locked. The
men mounted to their places on the box and
roof, and the van continued its journey along
the high road towards the Junction. But
satisfactory as their attempt had so far proved,
the danger was by no means over. Scarcely
had they proceeded three miles on their way
before Carne distinguished the sound of hoofs
upon the road behind him. A moment later a
young man, mounted on a well-bred horse,
came into view, rode up alongside, and sig.
nalled to the driver to stop.
“What's the matter P” inquired the latter, as
he brought his horses to a standstill. “Have
we dropped anything 2"
“Have you seen anything of a boy on a
horse?” asked the man, who was so much out
of breath that he could scarcely get his words
Out. -
“What sort of a boy, and what sort of a
horse P” asked the man on the van.
“A youngish boy,” was the reply, “seven


I36 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
seen a cheque for a considerable sum of money
change hands.
An hour later the Jessie Branker was steam-
ing out to sea, and a military-looking individual,
not at all to be compared with the industrious
mechanic, who had shipped the furniture van
on board the vessel bound for Spain, stood on
the platform of the station waiting for the
express train to London. On reaching the
metropolis he discovered it surging beneath
the weight of a great excitement. The streets
re-echoed with the raucous cries of the news-
vendors :
“The Derby favourite stolen—Vulcanite
missing from his stable !”
Next morning an advertisement appeared in
every paper of consequence, offering “A
reward of Five Hundred Pounds for any
information which might lead to the conviction
of the person or persons who on the morning
of May 28th had stolen, or caused to be stolen,
from the Pitman Training Stables, the Derby
favourite, Vulcanite, the property of the Right
Honourable the Earl of Calingforth.”
The week following, Knight of Malta, owned
by Simon Carne, Esq., of Porchester House,
Park Lane, won the Derby by a neck, in a
scene of intense excitement. The Mandarin
being second, and The Filibuster third. It is


How SIMON CARNE WOW THE DERBY 137
a strange fact that to this day not a member of
the racing world has been able to solve the
mystery surrounding the disappearance of one
of the greatest horses that ever set foot on an
English racecourse.
To-day, if Simon Carne thinks of that
momentous occasion, when, amid the shouting
crowd of Epsom he led his horse back a
winner, he smiles softly to himself, and mur-
murs beneath his breath :
“Valued at twenty thousand pounds, and
beaten in the Derby by a furniture van.”


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I39
of trouble. Klimo looked at her, and in that
glance took in everything. In spite of the fact,
that he was reputed to possess a heart as hard as
any flint, it was noticeable that his voice, when
he spoke to her, was not as gruff as that in
which he usually addressed his visitors.
“Pray sit down,” he said, “and tell me in
as few words as possible what it is you desire
that I should do for you. Speak as clearly as
you can, and, if you want my help, don't
hesitate to tell me everything.”
The girl sat down as ordered, and immedi-
ately commenced her tale.
“My name is Eileen Jeffreys,” she said. “I
am the wife of an English Bank Inspector, and
the daughter of Septimus O'Grady, of Chicago,
U.S.A.”
“I shall remember,” replied Klimo. “And
how long have you been married ?”
“Two years,” answered the girl. “Two
years next September. My husband and I
met in America, and then came to England to
settle.”
“In saying good-bye to your old home, you
left your father behind, I presume 2"
“Yes, he preferred to remain in America.”
“May I ask his profession ?”
“That, I'm afraid, foolish as it may seem to
say so, I cannot tell you,” answered the girl,


I40 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
with a slightly heightened colour. “His
means of earning a living were always kept a
secret from me.”
“That was rather strange, was it not 2" said
Klimo. “Had he private resources 2"
“None that I ever heard of,” replied the girl.
“Did no business men ever come to see
him P”
“But very few people came to us at all. We
had scarcely any friends.”
“Of what nationality were the friends who
did come 2 ”
“Mostly Irish, like ourselves,” answered
Mrs. Jeffreys.
“Was there ever any quarrel between your
father and your husband, prior to your leaving
America P”
“Never any downright quarrel,” said the
girl. “But I am sorry to say they were not
always the best of friends. In those days my
father was a very difficult man to get on
with.”
“Indeed P” said Klimo. “Now, perhaps
you had better proceed with your story.”
“To do that, I must explain that at the end
of January of this present year, my father, who
was then in Chicago, sent us a cablegram to
say he was leaving for England that very day,
and, that upon his arrival in England, if we


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I4I
had no objection, he would like to take up his
residence with us. He was to sail from New
York on the Saturday following, and, as you
know, the passage takes six days or there-
abouts. Arriving in England he came to
London and put up at our house in Bellamer
Street, Bloomsbury. That was during the first
week in February last, and off and on he has
been living with us ever since.”
“Have you any idea what brought him to
England P”
“Not the least,” she answered deliberately,
after a few seconds' pause, which Klimo did
not fail to notice.
“Did he do business with any one that you
are aware of P”
“I cannot say. On several occasions he
went away for a week at a time into the
Midlands, but what took him there I have no
possible idea. On the last occasion he left us
on the fifteenth of last month, and returned
on the ninth of this, the same day that my
husband was called away to Marseilles on im-
portant banking business. It was easy to see
that he was not well. He was feverish, and
within a short time of my getting him to bed
began to wander in his mind, declaring over
and over again that he bitterly repented
some action he had taken, and that if he could


I42 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
once consider himself safe again would be quit
of the whole thing for ever.
“For close upon a fortnight I continued to
nurse him, until he was so far recovered as to
recognise me once more. The day that he did
so I took in at the door this cablegram, from
which I may perhaps date the business that
has brought me to you.”
She took a paper from her pocket and
handed it to Klimo, who glanced at it, ex-
amined the post-mark and the date, and then
placed it upon the desk before him. It was
from Chicago, and ran as follows:—
O'Grady,
13, Bellamer Street, London, England.
Why no answer? Reply chances of doing business.
NERO.
“Of course, it was impossible for me to tell
what this meant. I was not in my father's
confidence, and I had no notion who his
mysterious correspondent might be. But as
the doctor had distinctly stated that to allow
him to consider any business at all would
bring on a relapse and probably kill him,
I placed the message in a drawer, and
determined to let it remain there until he
should be well enough to attend to it without
danger to himself. The week following he


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I43
was not quite so well, and fortunately there
was complete silence on the part of his corre-
spondents. Then this second message arrived.
As you will see it is also from Chicago and
from the same person.
Reply immediately, or remember consequences. Time
presses, if do not realise at present price, market will be
lost. NERO.
“Following my previous line of action, I
placed this communication also in the drawer,
and determined to let Nero wait for a reply.
By doing so, however, I was incurring greater
trouble than I dreamt of. Within forty-eight
hours I received the following message, and
upon that I made up my mind and came off at
once to you. What it means I do not know,
but that it bodes some ill to my father I feel
certain. I had heard of your fame, and as
my husband is away from home, my father
unable to protect himself, and I am without
friends at all in England, I thought the wisest
course I could pursue would be to consult
you.”
“Let me look at the last cablegram,” said
Klimo, putting his hand from the box, and
taking the slip of paper.
The first and second messages were sim-
plicity itself; this, however, was a complete
enigma. It was worded as follows:–


I44 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
Uneasy—Alpha-Omega-Nineteen—Twelve—to-day
—five—lacs—arrange—seventy—eight—Brazils—one—
twenty—nine. NERO.
Klimo read it through, and the girl noticed
that he shook his head over it.
“My dear young lady,” he said, “I am afraid
that it would be safer for you not to tell me
any further, for I fear it is not in my power to
help you.”
“You will not help me now that I have
told you my miserable position ? Then
there is nothing before me but despair. Oh,
sir, is your decision quite irrevocable 2 You
cannot think how I have counted on your
assistance.”
“I regret exceedingly that I am compelled
to disappoint you,” he answered. “But my
time is more than occupied as it is, and I
could not give your case my attention, even if
I would.”
His decision had been too much for her for-
titude, and before he could prevent it, her
head was down upon her hands and she had
begun to weep bitterly. He attempted to com-
fort her, but in vain; and when she left him,
tears were still coursing down her cheeks. It
was not until she had been gone about ten
minutes, and he had informed his housekeeper
that he would see no more clients that day, that


146 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
the beginning, and, like a good many other
men in a similar position, because he could not
understand it, found himself taking a greater
interest in it. This feeling had not left him
when he had put off disguise as Klimo and
was Simon Carne once more.
While he was eating his lunch the thought
of the lonely Irishman lying ill in a house,
where he was without doubt an unwelcome
guest, fascinated him strangely, and when he
rose from the table he found he was not able
to shake off the impression it had given him.
That the girl had some notion of her father's
business he felt as certain as of his own name,
even though she had so strenuously denied
the fact. Otherwise why should she have been
so frightened by what might have been simply
innocent business messages in cypher? That
she was frightened was as plain as the sun then
shining into his room. Despite the fact that
he had resolved not to take up the case, he
went into his study, and took the cablegrams
from the drawer in which he had placed them.
Then drawing a sheet of paper towards him,
he set to work upon the puzzle.
“The first word requires no explanation,”
he said as he wrote it down. “For the two
next, Alpha and Omega, we will, for the sake
of argument, write The Beginning and The


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I47
End, and as that tells us nothing, we will
substitute for them. The First and The Last.
Now, who or what are The First and The
Last 2 Are they the first and last words of a
code, or of a word, or do they refer to two in-
dividuals who are the principal folk in some
company or conspiracy? If the latter, it is just
possible they are the people who are so des-
perately uneasy. The next two words, how-
ever, are too much for me altogether.”
Uninteresting as the case had appeared at
first sight, he soon discovered that he could
think of nothing else. He found himself
puzzling over it during an afternoon concert
at the Queen's Hall, and he even thought of
it while calling upon the wife of the Prime
Minister afterwards. As he drove in the Park
before dinner, the wheels of his carriage seemed
to be saying “Alpha and Omega, nineteen,
twelve” over and over again with pitiless re-
iteration, and by the time he reached home
once more he would gladly have paid a ten-
pound note for a feasible solution of the enigma,
if only to get its weight off his mind.
While waiting for dinner he took pen and
paper and wrote the message out again, this
time in half a dozen different ways. But the
effect was the same, none of them afforded him
any clue. He then took the second letter of


I48 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
each word, after that the third, then the fourth,
and so on until he had exhausted them. The
result in each case was absolute gibberish, and
he felt that he was no nearer understanding it
than when Mrs. Jeffreys had handed it to him
nearly eight hours before.
During the night he dreamt about it, and
when he woke in the morning its weight was
still upon his mind. “Nineteen—twelve,” it is
true had left him, but he was no better off for
the reason that “Seventy-eight Brazils” had
taken its place. When he got out of bed he
tried it again. But at the end of half an hour
his patience was exhausted.
“Confound the thing,” he said, as he threw
the paper from him, and seated himself in a
chair before his looking-glass in order that his
confidential valet, Belton, might shave him.
“I’ll think no more of it. Mrs. Jeffreys must
solve the mystery for herself. It has worried
me too much already.”
He laid his head back upon the rest and
allowed his valet to run the soap brush over
his chin. But, however much he might desire
it his Old Man of the Sea was not to be dis-
carded so easily; the word “Brazils” seemed
to be printed in letters of fire upon the ceiling.
As the razor glided over his cheek he thought
of the various constructions to be placed upon


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I49
the word—The Country—Stocks—and even
nuts—Brazil nuts, Spanish nuts, Barcelona
nuts, walnuts, cob nuts—and then, as if to
make the nightmare more complete, no less a
thing than Nuttall's Dictionary. The smile
the last suggestion caused him came within an
ace of leaving its mark upon his cheek. He
signed to the man to stay his hand.
“Egad!” he cried, “who knows but this
may be the solution of the mystery P Go down
to the study, Belton, and bring me Nuttall's
Dictionary.”
He waited with one side of his face still
soaped until his valet returned, bringing with
him the desired volume. Having received it
he placed it upon the table and took up the
telegram.
“Seventy—eight Brazils,” it said, “one—
twenty—nine.” -
Accordingly he chose the seventieth page,
and ran his fingers down the first column.
The letter was B, but the eighth word proved
useless. He thereupon turned to the seventy-
eighth page, and in the first column discovered
the word Bomb. In a second the whole aspect
of the case changed, and he became all eager-
ness and excitement. The last words on the
telegram were “one-twenty-nine,” yet it was
plain that there were barely a hundred upon


I50 A PRINCE OF SWIWDLERS
the page. The only explanation, therefore, was
that the word “One” distinguished the column,
and the “twenty-nine” referred to the number
of the word in it.
Almost trembling with eagerness he began
to count. Surely enough the twenty-ninth
word was Bomb. The coincidence was, to
say the least of it, extraordinary. But pre-
suming that it was correct, the rest of the
message was simplicity itself. He turned the
telegram over, and upon the back transcribed
the communication as he imagined it should
be read. When he had finished, it ran as
follows:
Owing to O'Grady's silence, the Society in Chicago is
growing uneasy. Two men, who are the first and last, or,
in other words, the principal members, are going to do
something (Nineteen-twelve) to-day with fifty thousand
somethings, so arrange about the bombs.
Having got so far, all that remained to
be done was to find out to what “nineteen-
twelve” referred. He turned to the dictionary
again, and looked for the twelfth word upon
the nineteenth page. This proved to be
“Alkahest,” which told him nothing. So he
reversed the proceedings and looked for the
nineteenth word upon the twelfth page; but
this proved even less satisfactory than before.
However much the dictionary might have


I52 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
sentatives, of Europe. What better occasion
could the enemies of law and order desire for
striking a blow at the Government and society
in general P What was he to do?
To communicate with the police and thus
allow himself to be drawn into the affair, would
be an act of the maddest folly; should he
therefore drop the whole thing, as he had at
first proposed, or should he take the matter
into his own hands, help Mrs. Jeffreys in her
trouble by shipping her father out of harm's
way, outwit the Fenians, and appropriate the
fifty thousand pounds mentioned in the cable-
gram himself?
The last idea was distinctly a good one.
But, before it could be done, he felt he must
be certain of his facts. Was the fifty thousand
referred to money, or was it something else 2
If the former, was it pounds or was it dollars 2
There was a vast difference, but in either case,
if only he could hit on a safe scheme, he would
be well repaid for whatever risk he might run.
He decided to see Mrs. Jeffreys without loss of
time. Accordingly, after breakfast, he sent
her a note asking her to call upon him, without
fail, at twelve o'clock. -
Punctuality is not generally considered a
virtue possessed by the sex of which Mrs.
Jeffreys was so unfortunate a member, but the


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I53
clock upon Klimo's mantelpiece had scarcely
struck the hour before she put in an appear-
ance. He immediately bade her be seated.
“Mrs. Jeffreys,” he began with a severely
judicial air, “it is with much regret I find that
while seeking my advice yesterday you were
all the time deceiving me. How was it that
you failed to tell me that your father was con-
nected with a Fenian Society, whose one aim
and object is to destroy law and order in this
country P”
The question evidently took the girl by
surprise. She became deathly pale, and for a
moment Klimo thought she was going to faint.
With a marvellous exhibition of will, how-
ever, she pulled herself together and faced her
aCCuSer.
“You have no right to say such a thing,”
she began. “My father is—”
“Pardon me,” he answered quietly, “but I
am in the possession of information which en-
ables me to understand exactly what he is. If
you answer me correctly it is probable that
after all I will take your case up, and will help
you to save your father's life, but if you decline
to do so, ill as he is, he will be arrested within
twenty-four hours, and then nothing on earth
can save him from condign punishment. Which
do you prefer P”


I54 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“I will tell you everything,” she said quickly.
“I ought to have done so at first, but you can
understand why I shrank from it. My father
has for a long time past been ashamed of the
part he has been playing, but he could not help
himself. He was too valuable to them, and
they would not let him slip. They drove him
on and on, and it was his remorse and anxiety
that broke him down at last.”
“I think you have chosen the better course
in telling me this. I will ask my questions,
and you can answer them. To begin with,
where are the headquarters of the Society P”
“In Chicago.”
“I thought as much. And is it possible for
you to tell me the names of the two principal
members ?”
“There are many members, and I don't
know that one is greater than another.”
“But there must be some who are more
important than others. For instance, the pair
referred to in this telegram as Alpha and
Omega P”
“I can only think,” she answered, after a
moment's thought, “that they must be the two
men who came oftenest to our house, Messrs.
Maguire and Rooney.”
“Can you describe them, or, better still,
have you their photographs 2 ”


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I55
“I have a photograph of Mr. Rooney. It
was taken last year.”
“You must send it to me as soon as you get
home,” he said; “and now give me as close a
description as possible of the other person to
whom you refer, Mr. Maguire.”
Mrs. Jeffreys considered for a few moments
before she answered.
“He is tall, standing fully six feet, I should
think,” she said at last, “with red hair and
watery blue eyes, in the left of which there is
a slight cast. He is broad shouldered and, in
spite of his long residence in America, speaks
with a decided brogue. I know them for des-
perate men, and if they come over to England
may God help us all. Mr. Klimo, you don't
think the police will take my father ?”
“Not if you implicitly obey my instructions,”
he answered.
Klimo thought for a few seconds, and then
continued : “If you wish me to undertake this
business, which I need hardly tell you is out of
my usual line, you will now go home and send
me the photograph you spoke of a few moments
since. After that you will take no sort of
action until you hear from me again. For
certain reasons of my own I shall take this
matter up, and will do my utmost to save your
father. One word of advice first, say nothing


I56 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
to anybody, but pack your father's boxes and
be prepared to get him out of England, if
necessary, at a moment's notice.”
The girl rose and made as if she would leave
the room, but instead of doing so she stood
irresolute. For a few moments she said no-
thing, but fumbled with the handle of her
parasol and breathed heavily. Then the pluck
which had so far sustained her gave way en-
tirely, and she fell back on her chair crying as
if her heart would break. Klimo instantly left
his box and went round to her. He made a
figure queer enough to please any one, in his
old-fashioned clothes, his skull cap, his long
grey hair reaching almost to his shoulders, and
with his smoked glass spectacles perched upon
his nose.
“Why cry, my dear young lady ?” said
Klimo. “Have I not promised to do my best
for you? Let us, however, understand each
other thoroughly. If there is anything you
are keeping back you must tell me. By not
speaking out you are imperilling your own and
your father's safety.”
“I know that you must think that I am en-
deavouring to deceive you,” she said; “but I
am so terribly afraid of committing myself that
I hardly know what to tell and what not to tell.
I have come to you, having no friends in the


“He made a queer figure, in his old-fashioned clothes.”
The Viceroy's Protégé.] [Page 156.


A SERVICE TO THE STATE 157
whole world save my husband, who is in Mar-
seilles, and my father, who, as I have said, is
lying dangerously ill in our house.
“Of course I know what my father has been.
Surely you cannot suppose that a grown up
girl like myself could be so dense as not to
guess why few save Irishmen visited our house,
and why at times there were men staying with
us for weeks at a time, who lived in the back
rooms and never went outside our front door,
and who, when they did take their departure,
sneaked out in the dead of night.
“I remember a time in the fall of the last
year that I was at home, when there were
more meetings than ever, and when these men,
Maguire and Rooney, almost lived with us.
They and my father were occupied day and
night in a room at the top of the house, and
then, in the January following, Maguire came
to England. Three weeks later the papers
were full of a terrible dynamite explosion in
London, in which forty innocent people lost
their lives. Mr. Klimo, you must imagine for
yourself the terror and shame that seized me,
particularly when I remembered that my father
was a companion of the men who had been
concerned in it.
“Now my father repents, and they are edg-
ing him on to some fresh outrage. I cannot


I58 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
tell you what it is, but I know this, that if
Maguire and Rooney are coming to England,
something awful is about to happen, and if
they distrust him, and there is any chance of
any one getting into trouble, my father will be
made the scapegoat.
“To run away from them would be to court
certain death. They have agents in almost
every European city, and, unless we could get
right away to the other side of the world, they
would be certain to catch us. Besides, my
father is too ill to travel. The doctors say he
must not be disturbed under any pretence
whatever.”
“Well, well !” said Kilmo, “leave the matter
to me, and I will see what can be done. Send
me the photograph you spoke of, and let me
know instantly if there are any further develop-
ments.”
“Do you mean that after all I can rely upon
you helping me?”
“If you are brave,” he answered, “not with-
out. Now, one last question, and then you
must be off. I see in the last telegram, men-
tion made of fifty lacs; I presume that means
money?”
“A lac is their term for a thousand pounds,”
she answered without hesitation.
“That will do,” said Klimo. “Now go


I6o A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
in his daughter's house. Hearing nothing from
him the Society has telegraphed again and
again, but without result. In consequence, two
of the chief and most dangerous members are
coming over here with fifty thousand pounds
at their disposal, to look after their erring
brother, to take over the management of affairs,
and to commence the slaughter as per arrange-
ment.
“Now as a peaceable citizen of the City of
London, and a humble servant of Her Majesty
the Queen, it is manifestly my duty to deliver
these rascals into the hands of the police.
But to do that would be to implicate the girl's
father, and to kill her husband's faith in her
family; for it must be remembered he knows
nothing of the father's Fenian tendencies. It
would also mix me up in a most undesirable
matter at a time when I have the best of reasons
for desiring to keep quiet.
“Well, the long and the short of the matter
is that I have been thinking the question out,
and I have arrived at the following conclusion.
If I can hit upon a workable scheme I shall
play policeman and public benefactor, check-
mate the dynamiters, save the girl and her
father, and reimburse myself to the extent of
fifty thousand pounds. Fifty thousand pounds,
Belton, think of that. If it hadn't been for the


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I6 I
money I should have had nothing at all to do
with it.”
“But how will you do it, sir?” asked Belton,
who had learnt by experience never to be
surprised at anything his master might say or
do.
“Well, so far,” he answered, “it seems a
comparatively easy matter. I see that the last
telegram was dispatched on Saturday, May
26th, and says, or purports to say, ‘sail to-day.'
In that case, all being well, they should be in
Liverpool some time to-morrow, Thursday.
So we have a clear day at our disposal in
which to prepare a reception for them. To-
night I am to have a photograph of one of the
men in my possession, and to-morrow I shall
send you to Liverpool to meet them. Once
you have set eyes on them you must not lose
sight of them until you have discovered where
they are domiciled in London. After that I
will take the matter in hand myself.”
“At what hour do you wish me to start for
Liverpool, sir?” asked Belton.
“First thing to-morrow morning,” his master
replied. “In the meantime you must, by hook
or crook, obtain a police inspector's, a sergeant's,
and two constable's uniforms with belts and
helmets complete. Also I shall require three
men in whom I can place absolute and implicit
L


I62 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
confidence. They must be big fellows with
plenty of pluck and intelligence, and the
clothes you get must fit them so that they shall
not look awkward in them. They must also
bring plain clothes with them, for I shall want
two of them to undertake a journey to Ireland.
They will each be paid a hundred pounds for
the job, and to ensure their silence afterwards.
Do you think you can find me the men without
disclosing my connection with the matter?”
“I know exactly where to put my hand upon
them, sir,” remarked Belton, “and for the sum
you mention it's my belief they'd hold their
tongues for ever, no matter what pressure was
brought to bear upon them.”
“Very good. You had better communicate
with them at once, and tell them to hold
themselves in readiness, for I may want them
at any moment. On Friday night I shall
probably attempt the job, and they can get
back to town when and how they like.”
“Very good, sir. I'll see about them this
afternoon without fail.”
Next morning, Belton left London for Liver-
pool, with the photograph of the mysterious
Rooney in his pocket-book. Carne had spent
the afternoon with a fashionable party at
Hurlingham, and it was not until he returned
to his house that he received the telegram he


I64 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
arrival, having greeted his friend, turned to two
gentlemen standing beside him, and after thank-
ing them for their company during the journey,
wished them a pleasant holiday in England,
and bade them good-bye. Then, turning to
his friend again, he led him along the platform
towards the cab rank.
During the time Belton had been speaking
to the two men just referred to, Carne had
been studying their faces attentively. One,
the taller of the pair, if his red hair and watery
blue eyes went for anything, was evidently
Maguire, the other was Rooney, the man of the
photograph. Both were big, burly fellows, and
Carne felt that if it ever came to a fight, they
would be just the sort of men to offer a deter-
mined resistance.
Arm in arm the curates followed the Ameri-
cans towards the cab rank. Reaching it, the
latter called up a vehicle, placed the bags they
carried upon the roof, and took their places
inside. The driver had evidently received his
instructions, for he drove off without delay.
Carne at once called up another cab, into
which Belton sprang without ceremony. Carne
pointed to the cab just disappearing through
the gates ahead.
“Keep that hansom in sight, cabby,” he
said; “but whatever you do don't pass it.”


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I65
“All right, sir,” said the man, and immedi-
ately applied the whip to his horse.
When they turned into Seymour Street,
scarcely twenty yards separated the two
vehicles, and in this order they proceeded
across the Euston Road, by way of Upper
Woburn Place and Tavistock Square.
The cab passed through Bloomsbury Square,
and turned down one of the thoroughfares
leading therefrom, and made its way into a
street flanked on either side by tall, gloomy-
looking houses. Leaning over the apron,
Carne gazed up at the corner house, on which
he could just see the plate setting forth the
name of the street. What he saw there told
him all he wanted to know.
They were in Bellamer Street, and it was
plain to him that the men had determined to
thrust themselves upon the hapless Mrs. Jef-
freys. He immediately poked his umbrella
through the shutter, and bade the cabman drive
on to the next corner, and then pull up. As
soon as the horse came to a standstill, Carne
jumped out, and, bidding his companion drive
home, crossed the street, and made his way
back until he arrived at a spot exactly opposite
the house entered by the two men.
His supposition that they intended to domi-
cile themselves there was borne out by the fact


I66 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
that they had taken their luggage inside, and
had dismissed their cab. There had been lights
in two of the windows when the cab had passed,
now a third was added, and this he set down
as emanating from the room allotted to the
new arrivals.
For upwards of an hour and a half Carne
remained standing in the shadow of the oppo-
site houses, watching the Jeffreys' residence.
The lights in the lower room had by this time
disappeared, and within ten minutes that on
the first floor followed suit. Being convinced,
in his own mind, that the inmates were safely
settled for the night, he left the scene of his
vigil, and, walking to the corner of the street,
hailed a hansom and was driven home. On
reaching No. 1, Belverton Street, he found a
letter lying on the hall table addressed to
Klimo. It was in a woman's handwriting, and
it did not take him long to guess that it was
from Mrs. Jeffreys. He opened it and read as
follows:
“BELLAMER STREET,
“Thursday Evening.
“DEAR MR. KLIMO,-
“I am sending this to you to tell you that my
worst suspicions have been realised. The two men whose
coming I so dreaded, have arrived, and have taken up their
abode with us. For my father's sake I dare not turn them
out, and to-night I have heard from my husband to say


A SERVICE TO THE STATE 167
that he will be home on Saturday next. What is to be
done? If something does not happen soon, they will com-
mence their dastardly business in England, and then God
help us all. My only hope is in Him and you.
“Yours ever gratefully,
“EILEEN JEFFREys.”
Carne folded up the letter with a grave
face, and then let himself into Porchester
House and went to bed to think out his plan
of action. Next morning he was up betimes,
and by the breakfast hour had made up his
mind as to what he was going to do. He had
also written and dispatched a note to the girl
who was depending so much upon him. In it
he told her to come and see him without fail
that morning. His meal finished, he went to
his dressing-room and attired himself in
Klimo's clothes, and shortly after ten o'clock
entered the detective's house. Half an hour
later Mrs. Jeffreys was ushered into his
presence. As he greeted her he noticed that
she looked pale and wan. It was evident she
had spent a sleepless night.
“Sit down,” he said, “and tell me what has
happened since last I saw you.”
“The most terrible thing of all has hap-
pened,” she answered, “As I told you in
my note, the men have reached England, and
are now living in our house. You can imagine


I68 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
what a shock their arrival was to me. I did
not know what to do. For my father's sake
I could not refuse them admittance, and yet
I knew that I had no right to take them in
during my husband's absence. Be that as it
may, they are there now, and to-morrow night
George returns. If he discovers their identity,
and suspects their errand, he will hand them
over to the police without a second thought,
and then we shall be disgraced for ever. Oh,
Mr. Klimo, you promised to help me, can you
not do so? Heaven knows how badly I need
your aid.”
“You shall have it. Now listen to my
instructions. You will go home and watch
these men. During the afternoon they will
probably go out, and the instant they do so,
you must admit three of my servants and
place them in some room where their presence
will not be suspected by our enemies. A
friend, who will hand you my card, will call
later on, and as he will take command, you
must do your best to help him in every possible
way.”
“You need have no fear of my not doing
that,” she said. “And I will be grateful to
you till my dying day.”
“Well, we'll see. Now good-bye.”
After she had left him, Klimo returned to


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I69
Porchester House and sent for Belton. He
was out, it appeared, but within half an hour
he returned and entered his master's pre-
Se11Ce.
“Have you discovered the bank P” asked
Carne.
“Yes, sir, I have,” said Belton. “But not
till I was walked off my legs. The men are
as suspicious as wild rabbits, and they dodged
and played about so, that I began to think
they'd get away from me altogether. The
bank is the ‘United Kingdom,’ Oxford Street
branch.”
“That's right. Now what about the uni-
forms ?”
“They're quite ready, sir, helmets, tunics,
belts and trousers complete.”
“Well then have them packed as I told you
yesterday, and ready to proceed to Bellamer
Street with the men, the instant we get the
information that the folk we are after have
stepped outside the house door.”
“Very good, sir. And as to yourself?”
“I shall join you at the house at ten o'clock,
or thereabouts. We must, if possible, catch
them at their supper.”
London was half through its pleasures that
night, when a tall, military-looking man,
muffled in a large cloak, stepped into a han-


A SERVICE TO THE STATE 171
of the windows, and from this illumination he
argued that his men were at home. Without
hesitation he went up the steps and rang the
bell. Before he could have counted fifty it
was opened by Mrs. Jeffreys herself, who
looked suspiciously at the person she saw
before her. It was evident that in the tall,
well-made man with iron-grey moustache and
dark hair, she did not recognise her elderly
acquaintance, Klimo, the detective.
“Are you Mrs. Jeffreys P” asked the new-
comer, in a low voice.
“I am,” she answered. “Pray, what can I
do for you?”
“I was told by a friend to give you this
card.”
He thereupon handed to her a card on
which was written the one word “Klimo.”
She glanced at it, and, as if that magic name
were sufficient to settle every doubt, beckoned
to him to follow her. Having softly closed the
door she led him down the passage until she
arrived at a door on her right hand, This she
opened and signed to him to enter. It was a
room that was half office half library.
“I am to understand that you come from
Mr. Klimo P” she said, trembling under the
intensity of her emotion. “What am I to
do P”


172 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“First be as calm as you can. Then tell
me where the men are with whom I have to
deal.”
“They are having their supper in the dining-
room. They went out soon after luncheon,
and only returned an hour ago.”
“Very good. Now, if you will conduct me
upstairs, I shall be glad to see if your father is
well enough to sign a document I have brought
with me. Nothing can be done until I have
arranged that.”
“If you will come with me I will take you to
him. But we must go quietly, for the men are
so suspicious that they send for me to know the
meaning of every sound. I was dreadfully
afraid your ring would bring them out into the
hall.”
Leading the way up the stairs she conducted
him to a room on the first floor, the door of
which she opened carefully. On entering,
Carne found himself in a well-furnished bed-
room. A bed stood in the centre of the room,
and on this lay a man. In the dim light, for
the gas was turned down till it showed scarcely
a glimmer, he looked more like a skeleton than
a human being. A long white beard lay upon
the coverlet, his hair was of the same colour,
and the pallor of his skin more than matched
both. That he was conscious was shown by


I74 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
tremulous fingers. Then, the paper being
supported on a book, the old man laboriously
traced his signature at the place indicated.
When he had done so he fell back upon the
pillow completely exhausted.
Carne blotted it carefully, then folded the
paper up, placed it in his pocket and announced
himself ready for work. The clock upon the
mantelpiece showed him that it was a quarter
to eleven, so that if he intended to act that
night he knew he must do so quickly. Bidding
the invalid rest happy in the knowledge that
his safety was assured, he beckoned the daugh-
ter to him.
“Go downstairs,” he said in a whisper, “and
make sure that the men are still in the dining-
room.”
She did as he ordered her, and in a few
moments returned with the information that
they had finished their supper and had an-
nounced their intention of going to bed.
“In that case we must hurry,” said Carne.
“Where are my men concealed?”
“In the room at the end of that passage,”
was the girl's reply.
“I will go to them. In the meantime you
must return to the study downstairs, where we
will join you in five minutes' time. Just before
we enter the room in which they are sitting,
–


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I75
one of my men will ring the front door bell.
You must endeavour to make the fellows in-
side believe that you are trying to prevent
us from gaining admittance. We shall arrest
you, and then deal with them. Do you under-
stand P”
“Perfectly.”
She slipped away, and Carne hastened to the
room at the end of the passage. He scratched
with his finger nail upon the door, and a second
later it was opened by a sergeant of police,
On stepping inside he found two constables and
an inspector awaiting him.
“Is all prepared, Belton P” he inquired of
the latter.
“Quite prepared, sir.”
“Then come along, and step as softly as you
Ca11.
As he spoke he took from his pocket a
couple of papers, and led the way along the
corridor and down the stairs. With infinite
care they made their way along the hall until
they reached the dining-room door, where
Mrs. Jeffreys joined them. Then the street
bell rang loudly, and the man who had opened
the front door a couple of inches shut it with a
bang. Without further hesitation Carne called
upon the woman to stand aside, while Belton
threw open the dining-room door.


176 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“I tell you, sir, you are mistaken,” cried the
terrified woman.
“I am the best judge of that,” said Carne
roughly, and then, turning to Belton, he added:
“Let one of your men take charge of this
woman.”
On hearing them enter, the two men they
were in search of had risen from the chairs
they had been occupying on either side of the
fire, and stood side by side upon the hearth
rug, staring at the intruders as if they did not
know what to do.
“James Maguire and Patrick Wake
Rooney,” said Carne, approaching the two
men, and presenting the papers he held in his
hand, “I have here warrants, and arrest you
both on a charge of being concerned in a
Fenian plot against the well being of Her
Majesty's Government. I should advise you to
submit quietly. The house is surrounded, con-
stables are posted at all the doors, and there is
not the slightest chance of escape.”
The men seemed too thunderstruck to do
anything, and submitted quietly to the process
of handcuffing. When they had been secured,
Carne turned to the inspector and said:
“With regard to the other man who is ill
upstairs, Septimus O'Grady, you had better
post a man at his door.”


A SERVICE TO THE STATE 177
“Very good, sir.”
Then turning to Messrs. Maguire and
Rooney, he said: “I am authorised by Her
Majesty's Government to offer you your choice
between arrest and appearance at Bow Street,
or immediate return to America. Which do
you choose 2 I need not tell you that we have
proof enough in our hands to hang the pair of
you if necessary. You had better make up
your minds as quickly as possible, for I have
no time to waste.”
The men stared at him in supreme astonish-
ment.
“You will not prosecute us?”
“My instructions are, in the event of your
choosing the latter alternative, to see that you
leave the country at once. In fact, I shall con-
duct you to Kingstown myself to-night, and
place you aboard the mail-boat there.”
“Well, so far as I can see, it's Hobson's
choice,” said Maguire. “I’ll pay you the
compliment of saying that you're smarter than
I thought you'd be. How did you come to
know we were in England P” -
“Because your departure from America was
cabled to us more than a week ago. You have
been shadowed ever since you set foot ashore.
Now passages have been booked for you on
board the outgoing boat, and you will sail in
M


178 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
her. First, however, it will be necessary for
you to sign this paper, pledging yourselves
never to set foot in England again.”
“And supposing we do not sign it?”
“In that case I shall take you both to Bow
Street forthwith, and you will come before the
magistrates in the morning. You know what
that will mean. You had better make up your
minds quickly, for there is no time to lose.”
For some moments they remained silent.
Then Maguire said sullenly : “Bedad, sir, since
there's nothing else for it, I consent.”
“And so do I,” said Rooney. “Where's
the paper ?”
Carne handed them a formidable-looking
document, and they read it in turn with osten-
tatious care. As soon as they had professed
themselves willing to append their signatures to
it, the sham detective took it to a writing-table
at the other end of the room, and then ordered
them to be unmanacled, so that they could
come up in turn and sign. Had they been less
agitated it is just possible they would have
noticed that two sheets of blotting paper
covered the context, and that only a small
space on the paper, which was of a blueish
grey tint, was left uncovered.
Then placing them in charge of the police
officials, Carne left the room and went upstairs


I8o A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
He leant towards Carne. “The girl's a good
one” he said. “An' ye may do what ye can
for her, for she knows nought of our business.”
“I’ll remember that if ever the chance
arises,” said Carne. “Now, good-bye.”
“Good-bye.”
On the Wednesday morning following, an
elderly gentleman, dressed in rather an anti-
quated fashion, but boasting an appearance of
great respectability, drove up in a brougham
to the branch of the United Kingdom Bank in
Oxford Street, and presented a cheque for no
less a sum than forty-five thousand pounds,
signed with the names of Septimus O'Grady,
James Maguire, and Patrick Rooney, and
bearing the date of the preceding Friday.
The cheque was in perfect order, and, in
spite of the largeness of the amount, it was
cashed without hesitation.
That afternoon Klimo received a visit from
Mrs. Jeffreys. She came to express her grati-
tude for his help, and to ask the extent of her
debt.
“You owe me nothing but your gratitude.
I will not take a halfpenny. I am quite well
enough rewarded now,” said Klimo with a
smile.
When she had gone he took out his pocket-
book and consulted it.


A SERVICE TO THE STATE I8I
“Forty-five thousand pounds,” he said with
a chuckle. “Yes, that is good. I did not take
her money, but I have been rewarded in
another way.”
Then he went into Porchester House and
dressed for the Garden Party at Marlborough
House, to which he had been invited.


THE WEDDING, GUEST 183
wedding, of course. I hear you have been
invited.”
“You are quite right; I have,” said Carne,
and presently produced a card from the basket,
and tossed it across the table.
The other took it up with a groan.
“Yes,” he said, “that's it, by Jove! And a
nice-looking document it is. Carne, did you
ever hate anybody so badly that it seemed as
if it would be scarcely possible to discover any-
thing you would not do to hurt them P”
“No,” answered Carne, “I cannot say that
I have. Fate has always found me some way
or another in which I might get even with my
enemies. But you seem very vindictive in this
matter. What's the reason of it P”
“Vindictive P” said Kelmare, “of course I
am; think how they have treated me. A year
ago, this week, Sophie Greenthorpe and I were
engaged. Old Greenthorpe had not then
turned his business into a limited liability com-
pany, and my people were jolly angry with me
for making such a foolish match; but I did not
care. I was in love, and Sophie Greenthorpe
is as pretty a girl as can be found in the length
and breadth of London. But there, you've
seen her, so you know for yourself. Well,
three months later, old Greenthorpe sold his
business for upwards of three million sterling.


184 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
On the strength of it he went into the House,
gave thirty thousand to the funds of his party,
and would have received a baronetcy for his
generosity, had his party not been shunted out
of power.
“Inside another month all the swells had
taken them up; dukes and earls were as
common at the old lady's receptions as they
had been scarce before, and I began to under-
stand that, instead of being everybody to them
as I had once been, the old fellow was begin-
ning to think his daughter might have done
much better than become engaged to the third
son of an impecunious earl.
“Then Kilbenham came upon the scene.
He's a fine-looking fellow, and a marquis, but,
as you know as well as I do, a real bad hat.
He hasn't a red cent in the world to bless him-
self with, and he wanted money—well—just
about as badly as a man could want it. What's
the result? Within six weeks I am thrown
over, and she has accepted Kilbenham's offer
of marriage. Society says—“What a good
match l’ and, as if to endorse it, you received
an invitation to the ceremony.”
“Forgive me, but you are growing cynical
now,” said Carne, as he lit a fresh cigar.
“Haven't I good cause to be 2" asked Kel-
mare. “Wait till you've been treated as I


186 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
morning that up to the present, with the
superb diamonds given by the bride's father,
they have totalled a value of something like
twenty thousand pounds.”
“You surprise me,” answered Carne.
“I am surprised myself,” said Kelmare, as
he rose to go. “Now, I must be off. I came
in to see if you felt inclined for a week's cruise
in the Channel. Burgrave has lent me his
yacht, and somehow I think a change of air
will do me good.”
“I am very sorry,” said Carne, “but it would
be quite impossible for me to get away just
now. I have several important functions on
hand that will keep me in town.”
“I suppose this wedding is one of them 2"
“To tell the honest truth, I had scarcely
thought of it,” replied Carne. “Must you be
off? Well, then, good-bye, and a pleasant
holiday to you.”
When Kelmare had disappeared, Carne went
back to his study, and seated himself at his
writing-table. “Kelmare is a little over-sen-
sitive,” he said, “and his pique is spoiling his
judgment. He does not seem to realize that
he has come very well out of a jolly bad
business. I am not certain which I pity most
—Miss Greenthorpe, who is a heartless little
hussy, or the Marquis of Kilbenham, who is


THE WEDDING GUEST 187
a thorough-paced scoundrel. The wedding,
however, promises to be a fashionable one,
and y 2
He stopped midway, rose, and stood leaning
against the mantelpiece, staring into the empty
fireplace. Presently he flipped the ash off his
cigar, and turned round. “It never struck me
in that light before,” he said, as he pressed the
button of the electric bell in the wall beside
him. When it was answered, he ordered his
carriage, and a quarter of an hour later was
rolling down Regent Street.
Reaching a well-known jeweller's shop, he
pulled the check string, and, the door having
been opened, descended, and went inside. It
was not the first time he had had dealings with
the firm, and as soon as he was recognised the
proprietor hastened forward himself to wait upon
him.
“I want a nice wedding present for a young
lady," he said, when the other had asked what
he could have the pleasure of showing him.
“Diamonds, I think, for preference.”
A tray containing hairpins, brooches, rings,
and aigrettes set with stones was put before
him, but Carne was not satisfied. He wanted
something better, he said—something a little
more imposing. When he left the shop a
quarter of an hour later he had chosen a


188 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
diamond bracelet, for which he had paid the
sum of one thousand pounds. In consequence,
the jeweller bowed him to his carriage with
almost Oriental obsequiousness.
As Carne rolled down the street, he took the
bracelet from its case and glanced at it. He
had long since made up his mind as to his line
of action, and having done so, was now pre-
pared to start business without delay. On
leaving the shop, he had ordered his coachman
to drive home; but on second thoughts he
changed his mind, and, once more pulling the
check string, substituted Berkeley Square for
Park Lane.
“I must be thoroughly convinced in my own
mind,” he said, “before I do anything, and the
only way to do that will be to see old Green-
thorpe himself without delay. I think I have
a good and sufficient excuse in my pocket. At
any rate, I'll try it.”
On reaching the residence in question, he
instructed his footman to inquire whether Mr.
Greenthorpe was at home, and if so, if he
would see him. An answer in the affirmative
was soon forthcoming, and a moment later Carne
and Greenthorpe were greeting each other in
the library.
“Delighted to see you, my dear sir,” the
latter said as he shook his guest warmly by


THE WEDDING GUEST 189
the hand, at the same time hoping that old
Sir Mowbray Mowbray next door, who was a
gentleman of the old school, and looked
down on the plutocracy, could see and re-
cognise the magnificent equipage standing
before his house. “This is most kind of
you, and indeed I take it as most friendly
too.”
Carne's face was as smiling and fascinating
as it was wont to be, but an acute observer
might have read in the curves of his lips a
little of the contempt he felt for the man before
him. Matthew Greenthorpe's face and figure
betrayed his origin as plainly as any words
could have done. If this had not been suffi-
cient, his dress and the profusion of jewellery—
principally diamonds—that decked his person
would have told the tale. In appearance he
was short, stout, very red about the face, and
made up what he lacked in breeding by an
effusive familiarity that sometimes bordered
on the offensive.
“I am afraid,” said Carne, when his host had
finished speaking, “that I ought to be ashamed
of myself for intruding on you at such an early
hour. I wanted, however, to thank you per-
sonally for the kind invitation you have sent
me to be present at your daughter's wedding.”
“I trust you will be able to come,” replied


I90 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
Mr. Greenthorpe a little anxiously, for he was
eager that the world should know that he and
the now famous Simon Carne were on familiar
terms.
“That is exactly what has brought me to
see you,” said Carne. “I regret to say I
hardly know yet whether I shall be able to give
myself that pleasure or not. An important
complication has arisen in connection with some
property in which I am interested, and it is just
possible that I shall be called to the Continent
within the next few days. My object in calling
upon you this morning was to ask you to per-
mit me to withhold my answer until I am at
liberty to speak more definitely as to my ar-
rangements.”
“By all means, by all means,” answered his
host, placing himself with legs wide apart upon
the hearthrug, and rattling the money in his
trouser pockets. “Take just as long as you
like so long as you don't say you can't come.
Me and the missus—hem | I mean Mrs. Green-
thorpe and I–are looking forward to the pleas-
ure of your society, and I can tell you we shan't
think our company complete if we don't have
you with us.”
“I am extremely flattered,” said Carne
sweetly, “and you may be sure it will not be
my fault if I am not among your guests.”


THE WEDDING GUEST I91
“Hear, hear, to that, sir,” replied the old
gentleman. “We shall be a merry party, and,
I trust, a distinguished one. We did hope to
have had Royalty present among us, but, un-
fortunately, there were special reasons, that I
am hardly privileged to mention, which pre-
vented it. However, the Duke of Rugby and
his duchess, the father and mother of my future
son-in-law, you know, are coming; the Earl of
Boxmoor and his countess have accepted; Lord
Southam and his lady, half a dozen baronets or
so, and as many Members of Parliament and
their wives as you can count on one hand.
There'll be a ball the night before, given by the
Mayor at the Assembly Rooms, a dinner to the
tenants at the conclusion of the ceremony, and
a ball in my own house after the young couple
have gone away. You may take it from me,
my dear sir, that nothing on a similar scale
has ever been seen at Market Stopford before.”
“I can quite believe it,” said Carne. “It
will mark an epoch in the history of the
county.”
“It will do more than that, sir. The fes-
tivities alone will cost me a cool five thousand
pounds. At first I was all for having it in town,
but I was persuaded out of it. After all, a
country house is better suited to such jinks.
And we mean to do it well.”


THE WEDDING GUEST I93
So saying, he unwrapped the tissue paper,
and displayed to Carne's astonished gaze a large
gilded casket, richly chased, standing upon four
massive feet.
“There, sir, you see,” he said, “an artistic
bit of workmanship, and I'll ask you to guess
what it's for.”
Carne, however, shook his head. “I'm afraid
I'm but a poor hand at guessing, but, if I must
venture an opinion, I should say a jewel case.”
Thereupon Mr. Greenthorpe lifted the lid.
“And you would be wrong, sir. I will tell you
what it is for. That box has been constructed
to contain exactly fifty thousand sovereigns,
and on her wedding day it will be filled, and
presented to the bride, as a token of her
father's affection. Now, if that isn't in good
taste, I shall have to ask you to tell me what
is.”
“I am astonished at your munificence,” said
Carne. “To be perfectly candid with you, I
don't know that I have ever heard of such a
present before.”
“I thought you'd say so. I said to myself
when I ordered that box, ‘Mr. Carne is the
best judge of what is artistic in England, and
I'll take his opinion about it.’”
“I suppose your daughter has received some
valuable presents 2"
N


I94 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“Valuable, sir? Why, that's no name for
it. I should put down what has come in up
to the present at not a penny under twenty
thousand pounds. Why, you may not believe
it, sir, but Mrs. Greenthorpe has presented the
young couple with a complete toilet-set of solid
gold. I doubt if such another has been seen
in this country before.”
“I should say it would be worth a burglar's
while to pay a visit to your house on the wed-
ding day,” said Carne with a smile.
“He wouldn't get much for his pains,” said
the old gentleman warmly. “I have already
provided for that contingency. The billiard-
room will be used as a treasure-chamber for the
time being, as there is a big safe like that over
yonder in the wall. This week bars are being
placed on all the windows, and on the night
preceding, and also on the wedding day, one of
my gardeners will keep watch in the room
itself, while one of the village policemen will
mount guard at the door in the passage.
Between them they ought to be sufficient to
keep out any burglars who may wish to try
their hands upon the presents. What do you
think P”
At that moment the handle of the door
turned, and an instant later the bride-elect
entered the room. On seeing Simon Carne she


THE WEDDING GUEST I95
paused upon the threshold with a gesture of
embarrassment, and made as if she would re-
treat. Carne, however, was too quick for her.
He advanced and held out his hand.
“How do you do, Miss Greenthorpe P” he
said, looking her steadily in the face. “Your
father has just been telling me of the many
beautiful presents you have received. I am
sure I congratulate you most heartily. With
your permission I will add my mite to the list.
Such as it is, I would beg your acceptance of it.”
So saying, he took from his pocket the case
containing the bracelet he had that morning
purchased. Unfastening it, he withdrew the
circlet and clasped it upon her wrist. So great
was her surprise and delight that for some
moments she was at a loss how to express her
thanks. When she recovered her presence of
mind and her speech, she attempted to do so,
but Carne stopped her.
“You must not thank me too much,” he
said, “ or I shall begin to think I have done a
meritorious action. I trust Lord Kilbenham is
well ?”
“He was very well when I last saw him,”
answered the girl after a momentary pause,
which Carne noticed, “but he is so busy just
now that we see very little of each other.
Good-bye.”


196 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
All the way home Simon Carne sat wrapped
in a brown study. On reaching his residence
he went straight to his study, and to his
writing-desk, where he engaged himself for
some minutes jotting down certain memo-
randa on a sheet of note-paper. When he
had finished he rang the bell and ordered
that Belton, his valet, should be sent to
him.
“Belton,” he said, when the person he
wanted had arrived in answer to the summons,
“on Thursday next I shall go down to
Market Stopford to attend the wedding of
the Marquis of Kilbenham with Miss Green-
thorpe. You will, of course, accompany me.
In the meantime” (here he handed him the
sheet of paper upon which he had been
writing) “I want you to attend to these few
details. Some of the articles, I'm afraid, you
will find rather difficult to obtain, but at any
cost I must have them to take down to the
country with me.”
Belton took the paper and left the room
with it, and for the time being Carne dismissed
the matter from his mind.
The sun was in the act of setting on the
day immediately preceding the wedding when
Simon Carne and his faithful valet reached
the wayside station of Market Stopford. As


THE WEDDING GUEST I97
the train came to a standstill, a footman wear-
ing the Greenthorpe livery opened the door of
the reserved carriage and informed his master's
guest that a brougham was waiting outside the
station to convey him to his destination.
Belton was to follow with the luggage in the
servants' omnibus.
On arrival at Greenthorpe Park, Simon
Carne was received by his host and hostess
in the hall, the rearmost portion of which was
furnished as a smoking-room. Judging from
the number of guests passing, re-passing, and
lolling about in the easy chairs, most of the com-
pany invited had already arrived. When he
had greeted those with whom he was familiar,
and had taken a cup of tea from the hands of
the bride-elect, who was dispensing it at a
small table near the great oak fireplace, he set
himself to be agreeable to those about him
for the space of a quarter of an hour, after
which he was escorted to his bedroom, a
pretty room situated in the main portion of the
building at the head of the grand staircase.
He found Belton awaiting him there. His
luggage had been unpacked, and a glance at
his watch told him that in a few minutes' time
it would be necessary for him to prepare for
dinner.
“Well, Belton,” he said, as he threw him-


198 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
self into a chair beside the window that looked
out over the rose garden, “here we are, and
the next question is, how are we going to
succeed 2 "
“I have never known you fail yet, sir,”
replied the deferential valet, “and I don't sup-
pose you'll do so on this occasion.”
“You flatter me, Belton, but I will not be
so falsely modest as to say that your praise is
altogether undeserved. This, however, is a
case of more than usual delicacy and danger,
and it will be necessary for us to play our
cards with considerable care. When I have
examined this house I shall elaborate my
plans more fully. We have none too much
time, for the attempt must be made to-
morrow night. You have brought down with
you the things I mentioned on that list, I
suppose 2"
“They are in these chests, sir,” said Belton.
“They make a precious heavy load, and once
or twice I was fearful lest they might arouse
suspicion.”
“You need have no fear, my good Belton,”
said Carne. “I have a very plausible excuse
to account for their presence here. Every one
by this time knows that I am a great student,
and also that I never travel without at least
two cases of books. It is looked upon as a


2OO A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
tervals during the night. The problem of how
we are to get hold of them would seem rather
a hard nut to crack, would it not?"
“I must confess I don't see how you are
going to do it at all, sir,” said Belton.
“Well, we'll see. I have a plan in my head
now, but before I can adopt it I must make a
few inquiries. I believe there is a staircase
leading from the end of this corridor down to
the lobby outside the billiard and smoking-
rooms. If this is so, we shall have to make
use of it. It must be your business to discover
at what time the custodians of the treasure
have their last meal. When you have found
that out let me know. Now you had better
get me ready for dinner as soon as possible.”
When Carne retired to rest that evening, his
inimitable valet was in a position to report
that the sentries were already installed, and
that their supper had been taken to them, by
Mr. Greenthorpe's orders, at ten o'clock pre-
cisely, by one of the under-footmen, who had
been instructed to look after them.
“Very good,” said Carne; “I think I see
my way now. I'll sleep on my scheme and
let you know what decision I have come to in
the morning. If we pull this little business off
successfully, there will be ten thousand pounds
for you to pay into your credit, my friend.”


2O2 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
nuptial knot was tied, and Miss Sophie
Greenthorpe, only daughter of Matthew
Greenthorpe, erstwhile grocer and provision
merchant, of Little Bexter Street, Tottenham
Court Road, left the building, on her husband's
arm, Marchioness of Kilbenham and future
Duchess of Rugby.
Simon Carne and his fellow-guests followed
in her wake down the aisle, and, having entered
their carriages, returned to the Park.
The ball that evening was an acknowledged
success, but, though he was an excellent
dancer, and had his choice of the prettiest
women in the room, Carne was evidently ill
at ease. The number of times he stealthily
examined his watch said this as plainly as any
words. As a matter of fact, the last guest had
scarcely arrived before he left the ball-room,
and passed down the lobby towards the back
staircase, stopping en route to glance at the
billiard-room door.
As he expected, it was closed, and a stalwart
provincial policeman stood on guard before it.
He made a jocular reference about the trea
sure the constable was guarding, and, with a
laugh at himself for forgetting the way to his
bedroom, retraced his steps to the stairs, up
which he passed to his own apartment. Belton
was awaiting him there.


204 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
moment he distinguished Belton's voice. “It's
as true as that I'm standing here,” he was
saying. “As I went up the stairs with the
governor's hot water there she was coming
along the passage. I stood back to let her
pass, and as I did she (Here the nar-
rative was interrupted by a violent fit of
coughing.) On hearing this Carne descended
the stairs, and, when he had got half-way
down, saw the footman and his valet coming
along the passage below. At the same instant
he must have caught his foot in the stair
carpet, for he tripped and fell headlong to the
bottom.
“Heaven's alive!” cried Belton. “I do
believe that's my governor, and he's killed.”
At the same time he ran forward to the injured
man's assistance.
Carne lay at the foot of the stairs just as he
had fallen, his head thrown back, his eyes
shut, and his body curled up and motionless.
Belton turned to the footman, who still stood
holding the tray where he had stopped on see-
ing the accident, and said: “Put down those
things and go and find Mr. Greenthorpe as
quickly as you can. Tell him Mr. Carne has
fallen downstairs, and I'm afraid is seriously
injured.”
The footman immediately disappeared. His


THE WEDDING GUEST 205
back was scarcely turned, however, before
Carne was on his feet.
“Excellent, my dear Belton,” he whispered ;
and, as he spoke, he slipped his fingers into
his waistcoat pocket. “Hand me up that tray,
but be quiet, or the policeman round the corner
will hear you.”
Belton did as he was ordered, and Carne
thereupon sprinkled upon the suppers provided
for the two men some of the white powder
from the bottle he had taken from his dressing-
case. This done, he resumed his place at the
foot of the stairs, while Belton, kneeling over
him and supporting his head, waited for
assistance. Very few minutes elapsed before
Mr. Greenthorpe, with his scared face, appeared
upon the scene. At his direction Belton and
the footman carried the unconscious gentleman
to his bedroom, and placed him upon his bed.
Restoratives were administered, and in some-
thing under ten minutes the injured man once
more opened his eyes.
“What is the matter?” he asked feebly.
“What has happened 2"
“You have met with a slight accident, my
dear sir,” said the old gentleman, “but you are
better now. You fell downstairs.”
As if he scarcely comprehended what was
said, Carne feebly repeated the last sentence


THE WEDDING GUEST 207
went to one of his master's trunks, and took
from it two suits of clothes, a pair of wigs, two
excellently contrived false beards, and a couple
of soft felt hats. These he placed upon the
bed. Ten minutes later he had assisted his
master to change into one of the suits, and
when this was done waited for further instruc-
tions.
“Before you dress, take a tumbler from
that table, and go downstairs. If you should
meet any one, say that you are going to the
butler's pantry in search of filtered water, as
you have used all the drinking water in this
room. The ball should be over by this time,
and the guests in bed half an hour ago.
Ascertain if this is the case, and as you return
glance at the policeman on duty outside the bil-
liard-room door. Let me know his condition.”
“Very good, sir,” said Belton; and, taking
a tumbler from the table in question, he left
the room. In less than five minutes he had
returned to report that, with the exception of
the corridor outside the billiard-room, the
house was in darkness.
“And how is the guardian of the door 2 "
Carne inquired.
“Fast asleep,” said Belton, “and snoring
like a pig, sir.”
“That is right,” said Carne. “The man


THE WEDDING GUEST 213
trace of the famous Kilbenham-Greenthorpe
wedding presents.”
He was sitting before the fire in his study
next morning, with his left foot lying bound
up upon a neighbouring chair, when Ram
Gafur announced “ Kelmare Sahib.”
“So sorry to hear that you are under the
weather, Carne,” said the new-comer as he
shook hands. “I only heard of your accident
from Raxter last night, or I should have been
round before. Beastly hard luck, but you
shouldn't have gone to the wedding, you
know !”
“And, pray, why not 2"
“You see for yourself you haven't profited
by your visit, have you?”
“That all depends upon what you consider
profit,” replied Carne. “I was an actor in an
interesting Society spectacle. I was permitted
an opportunity of observing my fellow-creatures
in many new lights. Personally, I think I did
very well. Besides that, to be laid up just now
is not altogether a thing to be despised, as you
seem to imagine.”
“What do you mean P”
“It isn't everybody who can boast such a
valid excuse for declining invitations as I now
possess,” said Carne. “When I tell you that
I had a dinner, a lecture at the Imperial In-


2I4 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
stitute, two “at homes,' and three dances on
my list for to-night, you will understand what
I mean. Now I am able to decline every one
of them without risk of giving offence or fear
of hurting the susceptibilities of any one. If
you don't call that luck, I do. And now tell
me what has brought you here, for I suppose
you have some reason, other than friendship,
for this early call. When you came in I ob-
served that you were bursting with importance.
You are not going to tell me that you have
abandoned your yachting trip and are going
to be married ?”
“You need have no fear on that score.
All the same, I have the greatest and most
glorious news for you. It isn't every day a
man finds Providence taking up his case and
entering into judgment against his enemies
for him. That is my position. Haven't you
heard the news P”
“What news P” asked Carne innocently.
“The greatest of all possible news,”
answered Kelmare, “and one which concerns
you, my dear fellow. You may not believe it,
but it was discovered last evening that the Kil-
benham-Greenthorpe wedding presents have all
been stolen, including the fifty thousand sove-
reigns presented to the bride in the now famous
jewelled casket. What do you think of that?”
\
*
*


THE WEDDING GUEST 2I5
“Surely you must be joking,” said Carne
incredulously. “I cannot believe it.”
“Nevertheless it's a fact,” replied Kelmare.
“But when did it happen? and how did
they discover it 2" asked Carne.
“When it took place nobody can tell, but
they discovered it when they came to put the
presents together after the guests had de-
parted. On the morning after the wedding
old Greenthorpe had visited the safe himself,
and glanced casually at its contents, just to
see that they were all right, you know; but it
was not until the afternoon, when they began
to do them up, that they discovered that every
single article of value the place contained had
been abstracted, and dummies substituted.
Their investigation proved that the sky-light
had been tampered with, and one could see
unmistakable footmarks on the flower beds
outside.
“Good gracious!” said Carne. “This is
news indeed. What a haul the thieves must
have had, to be sure | I can scarcely believe
it even now. But I thought they had a
gardener in the room, a policeman at the
door, and a patrol outside, and that old Green-
thorpe went to sleep with the keys of the room
and safe under his pillow 2°
“Quite right,” said Kelmare, “so he did;


THE WEDDING GUEST 217
“I'm afraid not. You evidently forget that,
as I said just now, I have a very good and
sufficient excuse.”
When the front door had closed behind his
guest, Carne lit a third cigar.
“I’m overstepping my allowance,” he said
reflectively, as he watched the smoke circle
upward, “but it isn't every day a man gives a
thousand pounds for a wedding present and
gets upwards of seventy thousand back. I
think I may congratulate myself on having
brought off a very successful little specula-
tion.”


V
A Case of Philanthropy
F one consults a dictionary one finds that
the word dipsomaniac means a man who
spends his life continually desiring alcoholic
liquor; a name that properly classifies it has
not yet been invented for the individual who
exhibits a perpetual craving for notoriety, and
yet one is, perhaps, as much a nuisance to
society as the other. After his run of success
there came a time when Simon Carne, like
Alexander the Great, could have sat down
and wept, for the reason that he had no more
worlds to conquer. For the moment it seemed
as if he had exhausted, to put it plainly, every
species of artistic villainy.
He had won the Derby, under peculiar
circumstances, as narrated elsewhere ; he had
rendered a signal, though an unostentatious,
service to the State ; he had stolen, under
enormous difficulty, the most famous family
jewels in Europe; and he had relieved the
218


A CASE OF PHILANTHROPY 2I9
most fashionable bride and bridegroom of the
season of the valuable presents that their
friends and relations had lavished on them.
Having accomplished so much, it would
seem as if he had done all that mortal man
could do to create a record for himself, but,
like the dipsomaniac above mentioned, he was
by no means satisfied, he craved for more. It
delighted him beyond all measure to hear the
comments of his friends upon each daring
crime as it became known to the world. What
he wanted now was something before which
all the rest would sink into insignificance. Day
after day he had puzzled his brains, but without
success. All he wanted was a hint. When he
got it he could be trusted to follow it up for
himself. At present, however, even that was
wanting.
On a morning following a banquet at the
Mansion House, at which he had been a wel-
come, as well as a conspicuous guest, he was
sitting alone in his study smoking a meditative
cigar. Though the world would scarcely have
thought it, a fashionable life did not suit him,
and he was beginning to wonder whether he
was not, after all, a little tired of England. He
was hungering for the warmth and colour of
the East, and, perhaps, if the truth must be
told, for something of the rest he had known


22O A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
in the Maharajah of Kadir's lake palace, where
he had been domiciled when he had first made
the acquaintance of the man who had been his
sponsor in English society, the Earl of Am-
berley.
It was a strange coincidence that, while he
was thinking of that nobleman, and of the
events which had followed the introduction
just referred to, his quick ears should have
caught the sound of a bell that was destined
eventually to lead him up to one of the most
sensational adventures of all his sensational
career. A moment later his butler entered
to inform him that Lady Caroline Weltershall
and the Earl of Amberley had called, and
would like to see him. Tossing his cigar
into the grate, he passed through the door
Ram Gafur held open for him, and, having
crossed the hall, entered the drawing-room.
As he went he wondered what it was that
had brought them to see him at such an early
hour. Both were among his more intimate
acquaintances, and both occupied distinguished
positions in the social life of the world's great
metropolis. While her friends and relations
spent their time in search of amusement, and
a seemingly eternal round of gaieties, which in-
volved a waste of both health and money,
Lady Caroline, who was the ugly duckling of


A CASE OF PHILANTHROPY 223
thousand pounds for the benefit of the sufferers.
Our kind friend here, Lord Amberley, has
promised to act as secretary, and his efforts
will be invaluable to us. Royalty has signified
its gracious approval, and it is expected will
head the list with a handsome donation. Every
class will be appealed to. Ministers of religion,
of all known denominations, will be invited to
co-operate, and if you will only consent to
allow your name to appear upon the personnel
of the committee, and will allow us to advertise
your name as a speaker at to-morrow's meeting,
I feel sure there is nothing we shall not be able
to achieve.”
“I shall be delighted to help you in any
way I can,” Carne replied. “If my name is
likely to be of any assistance to you, I beg
you will make use of it. In the meantime,
if you will permit me, I will forward you a
cheque for one thousand pounds, being my
contribution to the fund you have so charitably
started.”
Her ladyship beamed with delight, and even
Lord Amberley smiled gracious approval.
“You are generous, indeed,” said Lady
Caroline. “I only wish others would imitate
your example.”
She did not say that, wealthy though she
herself was, she had only contributed ten


A CASE OF PHILAWTHROPY 225
think you must be going, good-bye, and many
thanks to you for asking me.”
He escorted them to the carriage which was
waiting outside, and when he had watched it
drive away, returned to his study to write the
cheque he had promised her. Having done so,
he did not rise from his chair, but continued to
sit at his writing-table, biting the feather of his
quill pen and staring at the blotting pad before
him. A great and glorious notion had sud-
denly come into his head, and the majesty of it
was for the moment holding him spellbound.
“If only it could be worked,” he said to
himself, “what a glorious coup it would be.
The question for my consideration is, can it be
done? To invite the people of England to
subscribe its pounds, shillings, and pence, for
my benefit, would be a glorious notion, and
just the sort of thing I should enjoy. Besides
which I have to remember that I am a
thousand pounds to the bad already, and that
must come back from somewhere. For the pre-
sent, however, I'll put the matter aside. After
the meeting to-morrow I shall have something
tangible to go upon, and then, if I still feel in
the same mind, it will be strange if I can't find
some way of doing what I want. In the mean-
time I shall have to think out my speech; upon
that will depend a good deal of my success.
P


228 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
He, however, accepted the praise showered
upon him with becoming modesty, and, during
the next speaker's exhibition of halting elocu-
tion, amused himself watching the faces before
him, and speculating as to what they would say
when the surprise he was going to spring upon
them became known. Half an hour later, when
the committee had been elected and the meet-
ing had broken up, he bade his friends good-
bye and set off on his return home. That
evening he was dining at home, intending to
call at his club afterwards, and to drop in at
a reception and two dances between ten and
midnight. After dinner, however, he changed
his mind, and having instructed Ram Gafur to
deny him to all callers, and countermanding his
order for his carriage, went to his study, where
he locked himself in and sat down to smoke
and think.
He had set himself a puzzle which would
have taxed the brain of that arch schemer
Machiavelli himself. He was not, however,
going to be beaten by it. There must be
some way, he told himself, in which the fraud
could be worked, and if there was he was
going to find it. Numberless were the plans
he formed, only to discover a few moments
ter that some little difficulty rendered each
practicable.


A CASE OF PHILANTHROPY 231
of the big firms, and engage three servants
who can be relied upon to do their work, and,
what is more important, who can hold their
tongues.
“Next find me an old lady to impersonate
the mistress of the house. She must be very
frail and delicate-looking, and you will arrange
with some livery stable people in the neigh-
bourhood to supply her with a carriage, in which
she will go for an airing every afternoon in
order that the neighbourhood may become
familiar with her personality. Both she and
the servants must be made to thoroughly under-
stand that their only chance of obtaining any-
thing from me depends upon their carrying
out my instructions to the letter. Also, while
they are in the house, they must keep themselves
to themselves. My identity, of course, must
not transpire.
“As soon as I give the signal, the old lady
must keep to the house, and the neighbourhood
must be allowed to understand that she is
seriously ill. The day following she will be
worse, and the next she will be dead. You
will then make arrangements for the funeral,
order a coffin, and arrange for the conveyance
of the body to Southampton, en route for the
Channel Islands, where she is to be buried.
At Southampton a yacht, which I will arrange


A CASE OF PHILAWTHROPY 233
-*.
“I feel sure of that,” said Carne, “and now
that all is arranged I think that I will go to
bed.”
A week later a committee of the Canary
Islands Relief Fund was able to announce to
the world, through the columns of the Daily
Press, that the generous public of England had
subscribed no less a sum than one hundred
thousand pounds for the relief of the sufferers
by the late earthquake. The same day Carne
attended a committee meeting in Gloucester
Place. A proposition advanced by Lady Wel-
tershall and seconded by Simon Carne was
carried unanimously. It was to the effect that
in a week's time such members of the Relief
Committee as could get away should start for
the scene of the calamity in the chairman's
yacht, which had been placed at their disposal,
taking with them, for distribution among the
impoverished inhabitants of the Islands, the
sum already subscribed, namely, one hundred
thousand pounds in English gold. They would
then be able, with the assistance of the English
Consul, to personally superintend the distribu-
tion of their money, and also be in a position
to report to the subscribers, when they returned
to England, the manner in which the money
had been utilised.
“In that case,” said Carne, who had not


234 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
only seconded the motion, but had put the
notion into Lady Weltershall's head, “it might
be as well if our chairman would interview the
authorities of the bank, and arrange that the
amount in question shall be packed, ready for
delivery to the messengers he may select to
call for it before the date in question.”
“I will make it my business to call at the
bank to-morrow morning,” replied the chairman,
“and perhaps you, Mr. Carne, would have no
objection to accompany me.”
“If it will facilitate the business of this
committee I shall be only too pleased to do so,”
said Carne, and so it was settled.
On a Tuesday afternoon, six days later,
and two days before the date upon which it
had been arranged that the committee should
sail, the Marquis of Laverstock received a
letter. Lady Caroline Weltershall, the Earl
of Amberley, and Simon Carne were with
him when he opened it. He read it through,
and then read it again, after which he turned
to his guests.
“This is really a very extraordinary com-
munication,” he said, “and as it affects the
matter we have most at heart, perhaps I had
better read it to you :


A CASE OF PHILAWTHROPY 235
154, Great Chesterton Street,
Tuesday Evening.
To the Most Noble the Marquis of Laverstock, K.G.,
Berkeley Square.
My LoRD—As one who has been permitted to enjoy a
long and peaceful life in a country where such visitations are
happily unknown, I take the liberty of writing to your Lord-
ship to say how very much I should like to subscribe to the
fund so nobly started by you and your friends to assist the
poor people who have lost so much by the earthquake in
the Canary Islands. Being a lonely old woman, blessed
by Providence with some small share of worldly wealth, I
feel it my duty to make some small sacrifice to help others
who have not been so blessed.
Unfortunately, I do not enjoy very good health, but if your
Lordship could spare a moment to call upon me, I would
like to thank you in the name of Womanhood for all you
have done, and, in proof of my gratitude, would willingly
give you my cheque for the sum of ten thousand pounds to
add to the amount already subscribed. I am permitted by
my doctors to see visitors between the hours of eleven and
twelve in the morning, and five and six in the afternoon.
I should then be both honoured and pleased to see your
Lordship.
Trusting you will concede me this small favour, I have
the honour to be,
Yours very sincerely,
JANET O'HALLORAN.
There was a momentary pause after his lord-
ship had finished reading the letter.
“What will you do?” inquired Lady Caro-
line.
“It is a noble offering,” put in Simon Carne.


236 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“I think there cannot be two opinions as to
what is my duty," replied the chairman. “I
shall accede to her request, though why she
wants to see me is more than I can tell.”
“As she hints in the letter, she wishes to
congratulate you personally on what you have
done,” continued the Earl of Amberley; “and
as it will be the handsomest donation we have
yet received, it will, perhaps, be as well to
humour her.”
“In that case I will do as I say, and make it
my business to call there this afternoon between
five and six. And now it is my duty to report
to you that Mr. Simon Carne and I waited
upon the authorities at the Bank this morning,
and have arranged that the sum of one hundred
thousand pounds in gold shall be ready for
our messengers when they call for it, either
to-morrow morning or to-morrow afternoon at
latest.”
“It is a large sum to take with us,” said
Lady Caroline. “I trust it will not prove a
temptation to thieves' "
“You need have no fear on that score,”
replied his lordship. “As I have explained to
the manager, my own trusted servants will effect
the removal of the money, accompanied by two
private detectives, who will remain on board my
yacht until we weigh anchor. We have left


A CASE OF PHILANTHROPY 237
nothing to chance. To make the matter doubly
sure, I have also arranged that the money shall
not be handed over except to a person who
shall present my cheque, and at the same time
show this signet ring which I now wear upon
my finger.”
The other members of the committee ex-
pressed themselves as perfectly satisfied with
this arrangement, and when certain other
business had been transacted the meeting
broke up.
As soon as he left Berkeley Square Carne
returned with all haste to Porchester House.
Reaching his study he ordered that Belton
should be at once sent to him.
“Now, Belton,” he said, when the latter
stood before him, “there is not a moment
to lose. Lord Laverstook will be at Great
Chesterton Street in about two hours. Send
a messenger to Waterloo to inquire if they
can let us have a special train at seven o'clock
to take a funeral party to Southampton. Use
the name of Merryburn, and you may say
that the amount of the charge, whatever it
may be, will be paid before the train starts.
As soon as you obtain a reply, bring it to
154, Great Chesterton Street. In the mean-
time I shall disguise myself and go on to
await you there. On the way I shall wire to


238 A PRINCE OF SIWINDLERS
the captain of the yacht at Southampton to be
prepared for us. Do you understand what you
have to do P”
“Perfectly, sir,” Belton replied. “But I
must confess that I am very nervous.”
“There is no need to be. Mark my words,
everything will go like clockwork. Now I am
going to change my things and prepare for the
excursion.”
He would have been a sharp man who would
have recognised in the dignified-looking clergy-
man who drove up in a hansom to 154, Great
Chesterton Street, half an hour later, Simon
Carne, who had attended the committee meeting
of the Canary Island Relief Fund that afternoon.
As he alighted he looked up, and saw that all
the blinds were drawn down, and that there
were evident signs that Death had laid his finger
on the house. Having dismissed his cab he
rang the bell, and when the door was opened
entered the house. The butler who admitted
him had been prepared for his coming. He
bowed respectfully, and conducted him to the
drawing-room. There he found an intensely
respectable old lady, attired in black silk, seated
beside the window.
“Go upstairs,” he said peremptorily, “and
remain in the room above this until you are
told to come down. Be careful not to let your-


240 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
perfecting their arrangements. These were
scarcely completed before a gorgeous landau
drove up to the house, and Belton reported
that the footman had alighted and was ascend-
ing the steps.
“Let his lordship be shown into the draw-
ing-room,” said Simon Carne, “and as soon as
he is there do you, Belton, wait at the door.
I'll call you when I want you.”
Carne went into the drawing-room and set
the door ajar. As he did so he heard the foot-
man inquire whether Mrs. O'Halloran was at
home, and whether she would see his master.
The butler answered in the affirmative, and a
few moments later the Marquis ascended the
steps.
“Will you be pleased to step this way, my
lord,” said the servant. “My mistress is ex-
pecting you, and will see you at once.”
When he entered the drawing-room he dis-
covered the same portly, dignified clergyman
whom the neighbours had seen enter the house
an hour or so before, standing before the fire-
place.
“Good-afternoon, my lord,” said this indi-
vidual, as the door closed behind the butler.
“If you will be good enough to take a seat,
Mrs. O'Halloran will be down in a few mo-
ments.”


242 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
you desire to be gagged. That would be un-
pleasant for all parties.”
Then, turning to the door, he cried: “Come
in, Dick | "
A moment later the military individual, who
had been to Waterloo to arrange about the
train, entered the room to find the Most Noble
the Marquis of Laverstock seated in an easy
chair, almost beside himself with terror, with
the venerable clergyman standing over him
revolver in hand.
“Dick, my lad,” said the latter quietly, “his
lordship has been wise enough to hear reason.
No, sir, thank you, your hands behind your
back, as arranged, if you please. If you don't
obey me I shall blow your brains out, and it
would be a thousand pities to spoil this nice
Turkey carpet. That's right. Now Dick, my
lad, I want his lordship's pocket-book from his
coat and those sheets of note-paper and en-
velopes we brought with us. I carry a stylo-
graphic pen myself, so there is no need of
ink.”
These articles having been obtained, they
were placed on a table beside him, and Carne
took possession of the pocket-book. He
leisurely opened it, and from it took the cheque
for one hundred thousand pounds, signed by
the chairman and committee of the Canary


A CASE OF PHILANTHROPY 243
Island Relief Fund, which had been drawn
that afternoon.
“Now take the pen,” he said, “and begin to
write. Endeavour to remember that I am in
a hurry, and have no time to waste. Let the
first letter be to the bank authorities. Request
them, in your capacity of Chairman of the
Relief Fund, to hand to the bearers the amount
of the cheque in gold.”
“I will do no such thing,” cried the old
fellow sturdily. “Nothing shall induce me to
assist you in perpetrating such a fraud.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” said Carne
sweetly, “for I am afraid in that case we shall
be compelled to make you submit to a rather
unpleasant alternative. Come, sir, I will give
you three minutes in which to write that letter.
If at the end of that time you have not done
so, I shall proceed to drastic measures.”
So saying, he thrust the poker into the fire
in a highly suggestive manner. Needless to
say, within the time specified the letter had
been written, placed in its envelope, and
directed.
“Now I shall have to trouble you to fill in
this telegraph form to your wife, to tell her
that you have been called out of town, and do
not expect to be able to return until to-
morrow.”


244 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
The other wrote as directed, and when he
had done so Carne placed this paper also in
his pocket.
“Now I want that signet ring upon your
finger, if you please.”
The old gentleman handed it over to his
persecutor with a heavy sigh. He had realized
that it was useless to refuse.
“Now that wine-glass on the sideboard,
Dick,” said the clergyman, “also that carafe of
water. When you have given them to me, go
and see that the other things I spoke to you
about are ready.”
Having placed the articles in question upon
the table Belton left the room. Carne imme-
diately filled the glass, into which he poured
about a tablespoonful of some dark liquid from
a bottle which he took from his pocket, and
which he had brought with him for that pur-
pose.
“I’ll have to trouble you to drink this, my
lord,” he said, as he stirred the contents of the
glass with an ivory paper knife taken from the
table. “You need have no fear. It is per-
fectly harmless, and will not hurt you.”
“I will not touch it,” replied the other.
“Nothing you can do or say will induce me to
drink a drop of it.”
Carne examined his watch ostentatiously.


“‘I will not drink it.’”
The Viceroy's Protégé.] [Page 245.


A CASE OF PHILANTHROPY 245
“Time flies, I regret to say,” he answered
impressively, “and I cannot stay to argue the
question with you. I will give you three
minutes to do as I have ordered you. If you
have not drunk it by that time we shall be
compelled to repeat the little persuasion we
tried with such success a few moments since.”
“You wish to kill me,” cried the other. “I
will not drink it. I will not be murdered.
You are a fiend to attempt such a thing.”
“I regret to say you are wasting time,” re-
plied his companion. “I assure you if you
drink it you will not be hurt. It is merely an
opiate intended to put you to sleep until we
have time to get away in safety. Come, that
delightful poker is getting hot again, and if you
do not do what I tell you, trouble will ensue.
Think well before you refuse.”
There was another pause, during which the
unfortunate nobleman gazed first at the poker,
which had been thrust between the bars of the
grate, and then at the relentless being who
stood before him, revolver in hand. Never
had a member of the House of Lords been
placed in a more awkward and unenviable
position.
“One minute,” said Carne quietly.
There was another pause, during which the
Marquis groaned in a heartrending manner.


246 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
Carne remembered with a smile that the family
title had been bestowed upon one of the Mar-
quis' ancestors for bravery on the field of battle.
“Two minutes 1"
As he spoke he stooped and gave the poker
a little twist.
“Three minutes 1"
The words were scarcely out of his mouth
before Lord Laverstock threw up his hands.
“You are a heartless being to make me, but
I will drink,” he cried, and with an ashened
face he immediately swallowed the contents of
the glass.
“Thank you,” said Carne politely.
The effect produced by the drug was almost
instantaneous. A man could scarcely have
counted a hundred before the old gentleman,
who had evidently resigned himself to his fate,
laid himself back in his chair and was fast asleep.
“He has succumbed even quicker than I
expected,” said Carne to himself as he bent
over the prostrate figure and listened to his
even breathing. “It is, perhaps, just as well
that this drug is not known in England. At
any rate, on this occasion it has answered my
purpose most admirably.”
At five minutes before seven o'clock a hearse
containing the mortal remains of Mrs. O'Hal-
loran, of Great Chesterton Street, South Ken-


A CASE OF PHILANTHROPY 247
sington, entered the yard of Waterloo Station,
accompanied by a hansom cab. A special train
was in waiting to convey the party, which
consisted of the deceased's brother, a retired
Indian officer, and her cousin, the vicar of a
Somersetshire parish, to Southampton, where a
steam yacht would transport them to Guernsey,
in which place the remains were to be interred
beside those of her late husband.
“I think we may congratulate ourselves,
Belton, on having carried it out most success-
fully,” said Carne when the coffin had been
carried on board the yacht and placed in the
saloon. “As soon as we are under weigh we'll
have this lid off and get the poor old gentleman
out. He has had a good spell of it in there,
but he may congratulate himself that the ven-
tilating arrangements of his temporary home
were so perfectly attended to. Otherwise I
should have trembled for the result.”
A few hours later, having helped his guest
to recover consciousness, and having seen him
safely locked up in a cabin on board, the yacht
put in at a little seaport town some thirty or
forty miles from Southampton Water, and
landed two men in time to catch the midnight
express to London. The following afternoon
they rejoined the yacht a hundred miles or so
further down the coast. When they were once


A CASE OF PHILANTHROPY 25 I
this fund amounted to no less a sum than one hundred
thousand pounds, and to-morrow it was the intention of the
committee, under the presidency of the Most Noble the
Marquis of Laverstock, to proceed to the seat of the dis-
aster, taking with them the entire amount of the sum raised
in English gold. Unfortunately for the success of this
scheme, his lordship was the recipient, two days ago, of a
letter from a person purporting to reside in Great Chester-
ton Street, South Kensington. She signed herself Janet
O'Halloran, and offered to add a sum of ten thousand
pounds to the amount already collected, provided the Mar-
quis would call and collect her cheque personally. The
excuse given for this extraordinary stipulation was that she
wished to convey to him her thanks for the trouble he
had taken.
“Accordingly, feeling that he had no right to allow such
a chance to slip, his lordship visited the house. He was
received in the drawing-room by a man dressed in the garb
of a clergyman, who, assisted by a military-looking indi-
vidual, presently clapped a revolver to his head and de-
manded, under the threat of all sorts of penalties, that he
should give up to him the cheque drawn upon the Bank,
and which it was the Marquis's intention to have cashed
the following morning. Not satisfied with this assurance,
he was also made to write an order to the banking authori-
ties authorising them to pay over the money to the bearer,
who was a trusted agent, while at the same time he was to
supply them with his signet ring, which, as had already
been arranged, would prove that the messengers were
genuine and what they pretended to be. Next he was
ordered to drink a powerful opiate, and after that his lord-
ship remembers nothing more until he woke to find himself
on board a small yacht in mid-channel. Despite the agony
he was suffering, he was detained on board this piratical
craft until late last night, when he was set ashore at a small


252 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
village within a few miles of Plymouth. Such is his lord-
ship's story. The sequel to the picture is as follows.
“Soon after the Bank was opened yesterday, a respect-
able-looking individual, accompanied by three others, who
were introduced to the manager as private detectives, put
in an appearance and presented the Relief Fund's cheque
at the counter. In reply to inquiries the letter written by
the Marquis was produced, and the signet ring shown.
Never for a moment doubting that these were the mes-
sengers the Bank had all along been told to expect, the
money was handed over and placed in a handsome private
omnibus which was waiting outside. It was not until late
last night, when a telegram was received from the Marquis
of Laverstock from Plymouth, that the nature of the gigantic
fraud which had been perpetrated was discovered. The
police authorities were immediately communicated with and
the matter placed in their hands. Unfortunately, however,
so many hours had been allowed to elapse that it was ex-
tremely difficult to obtain any clue that might ultimately
lead to the identification of the parties concerned in the
fraud. So far the case bids fair to rank with those other
mysterious robberies which, during the last few months,
have shocked and puzzled all England.”
“I regard that as a remarkably able exposi-
tion of the case,” said Carne to himself with
a smile as he laid the paper down, “but what
an account the man would be able to write
if only he could know what is in my safe
upstairs "
That afternoon he attended a committee
meeting of the fund at Weltershall House.
The unfortunate nobleman whose unpleasant


VI
An Imperial Finale
F all the functions that ornament the
calendar of the English social and
sporting year, surely the Cowes week may
claim to rank as one of the greatest, or at
least the most enjoyable. So thought Simon
Carne as he sat on the deck of Lord Tremor-
den's yacht, anchored off the mouth of the
Medina River, smoking his cigarette and
whispering soft nothings into the little shell-
like ear of Lady Mabel Madderley, the lady of
all others who had won the right to be con-
sidered the beauty of the past season. It was
a perfect afternoon, and, as if to fill his flagon
of enjoyment to the very brim, he had won the
Queen's Cup with his yacht, The Unknown
Quantity, only half an hour before. Small
wonder, therefore, that he was contented with
his lot in life, and his good fortune of that
afternoon in particular.
The tiny harbour was crowded with shipping
254


AM IMPERIAL FINALE 255
of all sorts, shapes, and sizes, including the
guardship, his Imperial Majesty the Emperor
of Westphalia's yacht the Hohenszrallas, the
English Royal yachts, steam yachts, schooners,
cutters, and all the various craft taking part in
England's greatest water carnival. Steam
launches darted hither and thither, smartly
equipped gigs conveyed gaily-dressed parties
from vessel to vessel, while, ashore, the little
town itself was alive with bunting, and echoed
to the strains of almost continuous music.
“Surely you ought to consider yourself a
very happy man, Mr. Carne,” said Lady Mabel
Madderley, with a smile, in reply to a speech
of the other's. “You won the Derby in June,
and to-day you have appropriated the Queen's
Cup.”
“If such things constitute happiness, I sup-
pose I must be in the seventh heaven of
delight,” answered Carne, as he took another
cigarette from his case and lit it. “All the
same, I am insatiable enough to desire still
greater fortune. When one has set one's heart
upon winning something, beside which the
Derby and the Queen's Cup are items scarcely
worth considering, one is rather apt to feel that
fortune has still much to give.”
“I am afraid I do not quite grasp your
meaning,” she said. But there was a look in


AM IMPERIAL FINALE 257
“I must congratulate you most heartily, Mr.
Carne,” he said, “on your victory to-day.
You gave us an excellent race, and though I
had the misfortune to be beaten by thirty
seconds, still I have the satisfaction of knowing
that the winner was a better boat in every way
than my own.”
“Your Majesty adds to the sweets of victory
by your generous acceptance of defeat,” Carne
replied. “But I must confess that I owe my
success in no way to my own ability. The
boat was chosen for me by another, and I have
not even the satisfaction of saying that I sailed
her myself.”
“Nevertheless she is your property, and you
will go down to posterity famous in yachting
annals as the winner of the Queen's Cup in
this justly celebrated year.”
With this compliment his Majesty turned to
his hostess and entered into conversation with
her, leaving his aide-de-camp free to discuss
the events of the day with Lady Mabel.
When he took his departure half an hour later,
Carne also bade his friends good-bye, and,
descending to his boat, was rowed away to his
own beautiful steam yacht, which was anchored
a few cables' length away from the Imperial
craft. He was to dine on board the latter
vessel that evening.
R


258 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
On gaining the deck he was met by Belton,
his valet, who carried a telegram in his hand.
As soon as he received it, Carne opened it and
glanced at the contents, without, however, be-
traying very much interest.
An instant later the expression upon his face
changed like magic. Still holding the message
in his hand, he turned to Belton.
“Come below," he said quickly. “There is
news enough here to give us something to
think of for hours to come."
Reaching the saloon, which was decorated
with all the daintiness of the upholsterer's art,
he led the way to the cabin he had arranged as
a study. Having entered it, he shut and locked
the door.
“It's all up, Belton,” he said. “The comedy
has lasted long enough, and now it only re-
mains for us to speak the tag, and after that to
ring the curtain down as speedily as may be.”
“I am afraid, sir, I do not quite take your
meaning,” said Belton. “Would you mind
telling me what has happened P”
“I can do that in a very few words,” the
other answered. “This cablegram is from
Trincomalee Liz, and was dispatched from
Bombay yesterday. Read it for yourself.”
He handed the paper to his servant, who
read it carefully, aloud:


AN IMPERIAL FINALE 259
To CARNE, Porchester House, Park Lane, London.—
Bradfield left fortnight since. Have ascertained that you
are the object.
TRINCOMALEE.
“This is very serious, sir,” said the other,
when he had finished.
“As you say, it is very serious indeed,”
Carne replied. “Bradfield thinks he has
caught me at last, I suppose ; but he seems to
forget that it is possible for me to be as clever
as himself. Let me look at the message again.
Left a fortnight ago, did he Then I've still
a little respite. By Jove, if that's the case,
I'll see that I make the most of it.”
“But surely, sir, you will leave at once,”
said Belton quickly. “If this man, who has
been after us so long, is now more than half
way to England, coming with the deliberate
intention of running you to earth, surely, sir,
you'll see the advisability of making your
escape while you have time.”
Carne smiled indulgently.
“Of course I shall escape, my good Belton,”
he said. “You have never known me neglect
to take proper precautions yet; but before I
go I must do one more piece of business. It
must be something by the light of which all I
have hitherto accomplished will look like no-
thing. Something really great, that will make


AN IMPERIAL FINALE 26I
to all the other necessary details. You may
leave me now.”
Belton bowed, and left the cabin without
another word. He knew his master sufficiently
well to feel certain that neither intreaties nor
expostulations would make him abandon the
course he had mapped out for himself. That
being so, he bowed to the inevitable with
a grace which had now become a habit to
him.
When he was alone, Carne once more sat
for upwards of an hour in earnest thought.
He then ordered his gig, and, when it was
ready, set out for the shore. Making his way
to the telegraph office, he dispatched a message
which at any other, and less busy, time, would
have caused the operator some astonishment.
It was addressed to a Mahommedan dealer in
precious stones in Bombay, and contained only
two words in addition to the signature. They
Were :
“Leaving—come.”
He knew that they would reach the person
for whom they were intended, and that she
would understand their meaning and act
accordingly.
The dinner that night on board the Imperial
yacht Hohensarallas was a gorgeous affair in
every sense of the word. All the principal


262 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
yacht owners were present, and, at the con-
clusion of the banquet, Carne's health, as
winner of the great event of the regatta, was
proposed by the Emperor himself, and drunk
amid enthusiastic applause. It was a proud
moment for the individual in question, but he
bore his honours with that quiet dignity that
had stood him in such good stead on so many
similar occasions. In his speech he referred
to his approaching departure from England,
and this, the first inkling of such news, came
upon his audience like a thunder-clap. When
they had taken leave of his Majesty soon after
midnight, and were standing on deck, waiting
for their respective boats to draw up to the
accommodation ladder, Lord Orpington made
his way to where Simon Carne was standing.
“Is it really true that you intend leaving us
so soon P” he asked.
“Quite true, unfortunately,” Carne replied.
“I had hoped to have remained longer, but
circumstances over which I have no control
make it imperative that I should return to
India without delay. Business that exercises
a vital influence upon my fortunes compels
me. I am therefore obliged to leave without
fail on Friday next. I have given orders to
that effect this afternoon.”
“I am extremely sorry to hear it, that's all


AN IMPERIAL FINALE 263
*
I can say,” said Lord Amberley, who had
just come up. “I assure you we shall all
miss you very much indeed.”
“You have all been extremely kind,” said
Carne, “and I have to thank you for an ex-
ceedingly pleasant time. But, there, let us
postpone consideration of the matter for as
long as possible. I think this is my boat.
Won't you let me take you as far as your own
yacht P”
“Many thanks, but I don't think we need
trouble you,” said Lord Orpington. “I see
my gig is just behind yours.”
“In that case, good-night,” said Carne. “I
shall see you as arranged, to-morrow morning,
I suppose P”
“At eleven,” said Lord Amberley. “We'll
call for you and go ashore together. Good-
night.”
By the time Carne had reached his yacht
he had made up his mind. He had also hit
upon a scheme, the daring of which almost
frightened himself. If only he could bring it
off, he told himself, it would be indeed a fitting
climax to all he had accomplished since he had
arrived in England. Retiring to his cabin, he
allowed Belton to assist him in his preparations
for the night almost without speaking. It was
not until the other was about to leave the cabin


266 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
compartment, he unraveled it until he had
obtained the length he wanted, and then with
dexterous fingers constructed a moustache,
which he attached with spirit gum to his upper
lip. Two or three twirls gave it the necessary
curl, then with a pair of ivory-backed brushes
taken from the dressing-table he brushed
his hair back in a peculiar manner, placed a
hat of uncommon shape upon his head, took
a heavy boat cloak from a cupboard near at
hand, threw it round his shoulders, and, assum-
ing an almost defiant expression, faced Belton,
and desired him to tell him whom he resembled.
Familiar as he was with his master's mar-
vellous power of disguise and his extraordinary
faculty of imitation, the latter could not refrain
from expressing his astonishment.
“His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of
Westphalia,” he said. “The likeness is per-
fect.”
“Good,” said Carne. “From that exhibi-
tion you will gather something of my plan.
To-morrow evening, as you are aware, I am
invited to meet his Majesty, who is to dine
ashore accompanied by his aide-de-camp, Count
Von Walzburg. Here is the latter's photo-
graph. He possesses, as you know, a very
decided personality, which is all in our favour.
• Study it carefully.” * As


AW IMPERIAL FINALE 267
So saying, he took from a drawer a photo-
graph, which he propped against the looking-
glass on the dressing-table before him. It
represented a tall, military-looking individual,
with bristling eyebrows, a large nose, a heavy
grey moustache, and hair of the same colour.
Belton examined it carefully.
“I can only suppose, sir,” he said, “that,
as you are telling me this, you intend me to
represent Count Von Walzburg.”
“Exactly,” said Carne. “That is my in-
tention. It should not be at all difficult. The
Count is just your height and build. You will
only need the moustache, the eyebrows, the
grey hair, and the large nose, to look the part
exactly. To-morrow will be a dark night, and,
if only I can control circumstances sufficiently
to obtain the chance I want, detection, in the
first part of our scheme at any rate, should
be most unlikely, if not almost impossible.”
“You'll excuse my saying so, I hope, sir,”
said Belton, “but it seems a very risky game
to play when we have done so well up to the
present.” -
“You must admit that the glory will be the
greater, my friend, if we succeed.”
“But surely, sir, as I said just now, they
keep the plate you mention in a secure place,
and have it properly guarded.”


268 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
“I have made the fullest inquiries, you may
be sure. It is kept in a safe in the chief
steward's cabin, and, while it is on board, a
sentry is always on duty at the door. Yes, all
things considered, I should say it is kept in a
remarkably secure place.”
“Then, sir, I'm still at a loss to see how you
are going to obtain possession of it.”
Carne smiled indulgently. It pleased him to
see how perplexed his servant was.
“In the simplest manner possible,” he said,
“provided always that I can get on board the
yacht without my identity being questioned.
The manner in which we are to leave the ves-
sel will be rather more dangerous, but not
sufficiently so to cause us any great uneasiness.
You are a good swimmer, I know, so that a
hundred yards should not hurt you. You must
also have a number of stout canvas sacks, say
six, prepared, and securely attached to each the
same number of strong lines; the latter must
be fifty fathoms long, and have at the end of
each a stout swivel hook. The rest is only a
matter of detail. Now, what have you ar.
ranged with regard to matters in town P”
“I have fulfilled your instructions, sir, to the
letter,” said Belton. “I have communicated
with the agents who act for the owner of Por.
chester House. I have caused an advertise-


AW IMPERIAL FINALE 269
ment to be inserted in all the papers to-morrow
morning to the effect that the renowned
detective, Klimo, will be unable to meet his
clients for at least a month, owing to the fact
that he has accepted an important engagement
upon the Continent, which will take him from
home for that length of time. I have negoti-
ated the sale of the various horses you have in
training, and I have also arranged for the dis-
posal of the animals and carriages you have
now in use in London. Ram Gafur and the
other native servants at Porchester House will
come down by the midday train to-morrow, but
before they do so, they will fulfil your instruc-
tions and repair the hole in the wall between
the two houses. I cannot think of any more,
sir.”
“You have succeeded admirably, my dear
Belton,” said Carne, “and I am very pleased.
To-morrow you had better see that a paragraph
is inserted in all the daily papers announcing
the fact that it is my intention to leave
England for India immediately, on important
private business. I think that will do for to-
night.”
Belton tidied the cabin, and, having done so,
bade his master good-night. It was plain that
he was exceedingly nervous about the success
of the enterprise upon which Carne was em-


272 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
push off. By the time he reached his own
yacht his foot was so painful that it was neces-
sary for him to be lifted on board—a circum-
stance which was duly noticed by the occupants
of all the surrounding yachts, who had brought
their glasses to bear upon him. Once below
in his saloon, he was placed in a comfortable
chair and left to Belton's careful attention.
“I trust you have not hurt yourself very
much, sir,” said that faithful individual, who,
however, could not prevent a look of satisfac-
tion coming into his face, which seemed to say
that he was not ill-pleased that his master
would, after all, be prevented from carrying out
the hazardous scheme he had proposed to him
the previous evening.
In reply, Carne sprang to his feet without
showing a trace of lameness.
“My dear Belton, how peculiarly dense you
are to-day,” he said, with a smile, as he noticed
the other's amazement. “Cannot you see that
I have only been acting as you yourself wished
I should do early this morning—namely, taking
precautions P Surely you must see that, if I
am laid up on board my yacht with a sprained
ankle, society will say that is quite impossible
for me to be doing any mischief elsewhere.
Now, tell me, is everything prepared for to-
night 2"


AM IMPERIAL FINALE 273
“Everything, sir,” Belton replied. “The
dresses and wigs are ready. The canvassacks,
and the lines to which the spring hooks are
attached, are in your cabin awaiting your
inspection. As far as I can see, everything is
prepared, and I hope will meet with your satis-
faction.”
“If you are as careful as usual, I feel sure
it will,” said Carne. “Now get some bandages
and make this foot of mine up into as artistic
a bundle as you possibly can. After that help
me on deck and prop me up in a chair. As
soon as my accident gets known there will
be certain to be shoals of callers on board,
and I must play my part as carefully as pos-
sible.”
As Carne had predicted, this proved to be
true. From half-past three until well after six
o'clock a succession of boats drew up at his
accommodation ladder, and the sufferer on
deck was the recipient of as much attention as
would have flattered the vainest of men. He
had been careful to send a letter of apology to
the illustrious individual who was to have been
his host, expressing his sincere regrets that the
accident which had so unfortunately befallen
him would prevent the possibility of his being
able to be present at the dinner he was giving
that evening.
S


274 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
Day closed in and found the sky covered
with heavy clouds. Towards eight o'clock a
violent storm of rain fell, and when Carne
heard it beating upon the deck above his
cabin, and reflected that in consequence the
night would in all probability be dark, he felt
that his lucky star was indeed in the ascend-
ant.
At half-past eight he retired to his cabin
with Belton, in order to prepare for the events
of the evening. Never before had he paid
such careful attention to his make-up. He
knew that on this occasion the least carelessness
might lead to detection, and he had no desire
that his last and greatest exploit should prove
his undoing.
It was half-past nine before he and his
servant had dressed and were ready to set off.
Then, placing broad-brimmed hats upon their
heads, and carrying a portmanteau containing
the cloaks and headgear which they were to
wear later in the evening, they went on deck
and descended into the dinghy which was
waiting for them alongside. In something
under a quarter of an hour they had been put
ashore in a secluded spot, had changed their
costumes, and were walking boldly down beside
the water towards the steps where they could
see the Imperial launch still waiting. Her


276 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
coming on board so soon, and, as if to back
this assertion up, bade him send the chief
steward to his cabin, and at the same time
have the sentry removed from his door and
placed at the end of the large saloon, with in-
structions to allow no one to pass until he was
communicated with again.
The officer saluted and went off on his
errand, while Carne, signing to Belton to
follow him, made his way down the companion
ladder to the Royal cabins. To both the next
few minutes seemed like hours. Reaching the
Imperial state room, they entered it and closed
the door behind. Provided the sentry obeyed
his orders, which there was no reason to doubt
he would do, and the Emperor himself did not
return until they were safely off the vessel
again, there seemed every probability of their
being able to carry out their scheme without
a hitch.
“Put those bags under the table, and un-
wind the lines and place them in the gallery
outside the window. They won't be seen
there,” said Carne to Belton, who was watch-
ing him from the doorway. “Then stand by,
for in a few minutes the chief steward will be
here. As soon as he enters you must manage
to get between him and the door, and, while I
am engaging him in conversation, spring on


AN IMPERIAL FINALE 277
him, clutch him by the throat, and hold him
until I can force this gag into his mouth.
After that we shall be safe for some time at
least, for not a soul will come this way until
they discover their mistake. It seems to me
we ought to thank our stars that the chief
steward's cabin was placed in such a con-
venient position. But hush, here comes the
individual we want. Be ready to collar him
as soon as I hold up my hand. If he makes
a sound we are lost.”
He had scarcely spoken before there was a
knock at the door. When it opened, the chief
steward entered the cabin, closing the door be-
hind him.
“Schmidt,” said his Majesty, who was stand-
ing at the further end of the cabin, “I have
sent for you in order that I may question you
on a matter of the utmost importance. Draw
nearer.”
The man came forward as he was ordered,
and, having done so, looked his master full
and fair in the face. Something he saw there
seemed to stagger him. He glanced at him
a second time, and was immediately confirmed
in his belief.
“You are not the Emperor,” he cried.
“There is some treachery in this. I shall
call for assistance.”


Nº
“Forced it into the terrified man's mouth.”
The Viceroy's Protégé.] [Page 278.


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AM IMPERIAL FINALE 279
So saying, he crossed the cabin, and, having
assured himself that there was no one about to
pry upon them, passed along the luxuriously
carpeted alley way until he arrived at the door
of the cabin, assigned to the use of the chief
steward, and in which was the safe containing
the magnificent gold plate, the obtaining of
which was the reason of his being there. To
his surprise and chagrin, the door was closed
and locked. In his plans he had omitted to
allow for this contingency. In all probability,
however, the key was in the man's pocket, so,
turning to Belton, he bade him return to the
state room and bring him the keys he had
thrown upon the table.
The latter did as he was ordered, and, when
he had disappeared, Carne stood alone in the
alley way waiting and listening to the various
noises of the great vessel. On the deck over-
head he could hear some one tramping heavily
up and down, and then, in an interval of silence,
the sound of pouring rain. Good reason as he
had to be anxious, he could not help smiling
as he thought of the incongruity of his position.
He wondered what his aristocratic friends would
say if he were captured and his story came to
light. In his time he had impersonated a good
many people, but never before had he had the
honour of occupying such an exalted station.


282 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
A few moments later the entire cabin was
strewn with salvers, goblets, bowls, epergnes,
gold and silver dishes, plates, cups, knives,
forks, and almost every example of the gold-
Smith's art. In his choice Carne was not
guided by what was handsomest or most deli-
cate in workmanship or shape. Weight was
his only standard. Silver he discarded al-
together, for it was of less than no account. In
something under ten minutes he had made his
selection, and the stout canvas bags they had
brought with them for that purpose were full to
their utmost holding capacity.
“We can carry no more,” said Carne to his
faithful retainer, as they made the mouth of the
last bag secure. “Pick up yours, and let us get
back to the Emperor's state room.
Having locked the door of the cabin, they
returned to the place whence they had started.
There they found the unfortunate steward lying
just as they had left him on the settee. Placing
the bags he carried upon the ground, Carne
crossed to him, and, before doing anything else,
carefully examined the bonds with which he
was secured.
Having done this, he went to the stern win-
dows, and, throwing one open, stepped into the
gallery outside. Fortunately for what he
intended to do, it was still raining heavily, and


AN IMPERIAL FINALE 283
in consequence the night was as dark as the
most consummate conspirator could have
desired. Returning to the room, he bade
Belton help him carry the bags into the gallery,
and, when this had been done, made fast the
swivel hooks to the rings in the mouth of
each.
“Take up your bags as quietly as possible,”
he said, “and lower them one by one into the
water, but take care that they don't get en-
tangled in the propeller. When you've done
that, slip the rings at the other end of the lines
through your belt, and buckle the latter
tightly.”
Belton did as he was ordered, and in a few
moments the six bags were lying at the bottom
of the sea.
“Now off with these wigs and things, and
say when you're ready for a swim.”
Their disguises having been discarded and
thrown overboard, Carne and Belton clambered
over the rails of the gallery and lowered them-
selves until their feet touched the water. Next
moment they had both let go, and were
swimming in the direction of Carne's own
yacht.
It was at this period of their adventure that
the darkness proved of such real service to
them. By the time they had swum half a


284 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
dozen strokes it would have needed a sharp
pair of eyes to distinguish them as they rose
and fell among the foam-crested waves. If,
however, the storm had done them a good turn
in saving them from notice, it came within an
ace of doing them an ill service in another
direction. Good swimmers though both Carne
and Belton were, and they had proved it to
each other's satisfaction in the seas of almost
every known quarter of the globe, they soon
found that it took all their strength to make
headway now. By the time they reached
their own craft, they were both completely ex-
hausted. As Belton declared afterwards, he
felt as if he could not have managed another
twenty strokes even had his life depended on
1t.
At last, however, they reached the yacht's
stern and clutched at the rope ladder which
Carne had himself placed there before he had
set out on the evening's excursion. In less
time than it takes to tell, he had mounted it
and gained the deck, followed by his faithful
servant. They presented a sorry spectacle as
they stood side by side at the taffrail, the water
dripping from their clothes and pattering upon
the deck.
“Thank goodness we are here at last,” said
Carne, as soon as he had recovered his breath


AM IMPERIAL FINALE 285
sufficiently to speak. “Now slip off your belt,
and hang it over this cleat with mine.”
Belton did as he was directed, and then fol-
lowed his master to the saloon companion
ladder. Once below, they changed their clothes
as quickly as possible, and having donned
mackintoshes, returned to the deck, where it
was still raining hard.
“Now,” said Carne, “for the last and most
important part of our evening's work. Let us
hope the lines will prove equal to the demands
we are about to make upon them.”
As he said this, he took one of the belts from
the cleat upon which he had placed it, and,
having detached a line, began to pull it in,
Belton following his example with another.
Their hopes that they would prove equal to
the confidence placed in them proved well
founded, for, in something less than a quarter
of an hour, the six bags, containing the Em-
peror of Westphalia's magnificent gold plate,
were lying upon the deck, ready to be carried
below and stowed away in the secret place in
which Carne had arranged to hide his treasure.
“Now, Belton,” said Carne, as he pushed
the panel back into its place, and pressed the
secret spring that locked it, “I hope you're
satisfied with what we have done. We've
made a splendid haul, and you shall have your


AN IMPERIAL FINALE 29I
present, and several had undertaken the journey
from town in order to say farewell to one who
had made himself so popular during his brief
stay in England. When Carne rose to reply
to the toast of his health, proposed by the
Prime Minister, it was observable that he was
genuinely moved, as, indeed, were most of his
hearers.
For the remainder of the afternoon his
yacht's deck was crowded with his friends, all
of whom expressed the hope that it might not
be very long before he was amongst them once
In Ore.
To these kind speeches Carne invariably
offered a smiling reply.
“I also trust it will not be long,” he answered.
“I have enjoyed my visit immensely, and you
may be sure I shall never forget it as long as
I live.”
An hour later the anchor was weighed, and
his yacht was steaming out of the harbour
amid a scene of intense enthusiasm. As the
Prime Minister had that afternoon informed
him, in the public interest, the excitement of
his departure was dividing the honours with
the burglary of the Emperor of Westphalia's
gold plate.
Carne stood beside his captain on the bridge,
watching the little fleet of yachts until his eyes


292 A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS
could no longer distinguish them. Then he
turned to Belton, who had just joined him, and,
placing his hand upon his shoulder, said:
“So much for our life in England, Belton,
my friend. It has been glorious fun, and no
one can deny that from a business point of
view it has been eminently satisfactory. You,
at least, should have no regrets.”
“None whatever,” answered Belton. “But
I must confess I should like to know what they
will say when the truth comes out.”
Carne smiled sweetly as he answered:
“I think they'll say that, all things con-
sidered, I have won the right to call myself
“A Prince of Swindlers.’”
--
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