 Chapter 1 of an African Millionaire episodes in the life of the illustrious Colonel Clay This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org An African Millionaire episodes in the life of the illustrious Colonel Clay by Grant Allen Chapter 1 The episode of the Mexican seer. My name is Seymour Wilburham Wentworth. I am brother-in-law and secretary to Sir Charles Van Drift, the South African millionaire and famous financier. Many years ago, when Charlie Van Drift was a small lawyer in Cape Town, I had the qualified good fortune to marry his sister. Much later, when the Van Drift estate and farm near Kimberley, developed by degrees into the close-stop Golcondas Limited, my brother-in-law offered me the not unremunerative post of secretary, in which capacity I have ever since been his constant and attached companion. He is not a man whom any common sharper can take in, is Charles Van Drift. Middle height, square build, firm mouth, keen eyes, the very picture of a sharp and successful business genius. I have only known one rogue imposed upon Sir Charles, and that one rogue, as the commissary of police at Nice remarked, would doubtless have imposed upon a syndicate of Vidoc, Robert Houdin and Calliostro. We had run across to the Riviera for a few weeks in the season. Our object being strictly rest and recreation from the arduous duties of financial combination, we did not think it necessary to take our wives out with us. Indeed, Lady Van Drift is absolutely wedded to the joys of London, and does not appreciate the rural delights of the Mediterranean littoral. But Sir Charles and I, though immersed in affairs when at home, both thoroughly enjoy the complete change from the city to the charming vegetation and polluted air on the terrace of Monte Carlo. We are so fond of scenery. That delicious view over the rocks of Monaco with a maritime alps in the rear and the blue sea in front, not to mention the imposing casino in the foreground, appeals to me as one of the most beautiful prospects in all Europe. Sir Charles has a sentimental attachment for the place. He finds it restores and freshens him after the turmoil of London to win a few hundreds at Roulette in the course of an afternoon among the palms and cactuses and pure breezes of Monte Carlo. The country, say I, for a jaded intellect. However, we never on any account actually stop in the principality itself. Sir Charles thinks Monte Carlo is not a sound address for a financier's letters. He prefers a comfortable hotel on the promenade des Anglais at Nice, where he recovers health and renovates his nervous system by taking daily excursions along the coast to the casino. This particular season we were snugly ensconced at the Hotel des Anglais. We had capital quarters on the first floor, salon, study and bedrooms, and found on the spot the most agreeable cosmopolitan society. All Nice just then was ringing with talk about a curious imposter known to his followers as the great Mexican seer and supposed to be gifted with second sight as well as with endless other supernatural powers. Now it is a peculiarity of my able brother-in-law's that when he meets with a quack he burns to expose him. He is so keen a man of business himself that it gives him so to speak a disinterested pleasure to unmask and detect imposter in others. Many ladies at the hotel, some of whom had met and conversed with the Mexican seer, were constantly telling us strange stories of his doings. He had disclosed to one the present whereabouts of a runaway husband. He had pointed out to another the numbers that would win at Roulette next evening. He had shown a third the image on a screen of the man she had for years adored without his knowledge. Of course Sir Charles didn't believe a word of it, but his curiosity was roused. He wished to see and judge for himself of the wonderful thought reader. What would be his terms, do you think, for a private seance? he asked of Madame Piccaday, the lady to whom the seer had successfully predicted the winning numbers. He does not work for money, Madame Piccaday answered, but for the good of humanity. I'm sure he would gladly come and exhibit for nothing his miraculous faculties. Nonsense! Sir Charles answered. The man must live. I'd pay him five guineas though to see him alone. What hotel is he stopping at? The Cosmopolitan, I think, the lady answered. Oh, no, I remember now, the Westminster. Sir Charles turned to me quietly. Look here, Seymour, he whispered. Go round to this fellow's place immediately after dinner and offer him five pounds to give a private seance at once in my rooms without mentioning who I am to him. Keep the name quite quiet. Bring him back with you two and come straight upstairs with him so that there may be no collusion. We'll see just how much the fellow can tell us. I went as directed. I found the seer a very remarkable and interesting person. He stood about Sir Charles's own height, but was slimmer and straighter, with an aquiline nose, strangely piercing eyes, very large black pupils and a finely chiseled, close-shaven face, like the bust of Antinous in our hall in Mayfair. What gave him his most characteristic touch, however, was his odd head of hair, curly and wavy like Paderevsky's, standing out in a halo around his high white forehead and his delicate profile. I could see at a glance why he succeeded so well in impressing women. He had the look of a poet, a singer, a prophet. I have come round, I said, to ask whether you will consent to give a seance at once in a friend's rooms, and my principal wishes me to add that he is prepared to pay five pounds as the price of the entertainment. Señor Antonio Herrera, that was what he called himself, bowed to me with impressive Spanish politeness. His dusky olive cheeks were wrinkled with a smile of gentle contempt, as he answered gravely. I do not sell my gifts, I bestow them freely. If your friend, your anonymous friend, desires to behold the cosmic wonders that are wrought through my hands, I am glad to show them to him. Fortunately, this often happens when it is necessary to convince and confound a skeptic, for that your friend is a skeptic I feel instinctively. I chance to have no engagements at all this evening. He ran his hand through his fine long hair reflectively. Yes, I go, he continued, as if addressing some unknown presence that hovered about the ceiling. I go, come with me. Then he put on his broad sombrero with its crimson ribbon, wrapped a cloak round his shoulders, lighted a cigarette, and strode forth by my side towards the hotel there's Anglais. He talked little, by the way, and that little incurred sentences. He seemed buried in deep thought. Indeed, when we reached the door and I turned in, he walked a step or two further on, as if not noticing to what place I had brought him. Then he drew himself up short and gazed around him for a moment. Ha! the Anglais, he said. And I may mention in passing that his English, in spite of a slight southern accent, was idiomatic and excellent. It is here, then. It is here. He was addressing once more the unseen presence. I smiled to think that these childish devices were intended to deceive Sir Charles van Drift, not quite the sort of man, as the city of London knows, to be taken in by hocus-pocus. And all this, I saw, was the cheapest and most commonplace conjurer's patter. We went upstairs to our rooms. Charles had gathered together a few friends to watch the performance. The seer entered, wrapped in thought. He was an evening dress, but a red sash round his waist gave a touch of picturesqueness and the dash of colour. He paused for a moment in the middle of the salon, without letting his eyes rest on anybody or anything. Then he walked straight up to Charles and held out his dark hand. Good evening, he said. You are the host. My soul's sight tells me so. Good shot, Sir Charles answered. These fellows have to be quick-witted, you know, Mrs. McKenzie, or they'd never get on at it. The seer gazed about him and smiled blankly at the person or two whose faces he seemed to recognise from a previous existence. Then Charles began to ask him a few simple questions, not about himself, but about me, just to test him. He answered most of them with surprising correctness. His name. His name begins with an S, I think. You call him Seymour. He paused long between each clause, as if the facts were revealed to him slowly. Seymour. Wilbrahim. Earl of Straford. No, not Earl of Straford. Seymour, Wilbrahim, Wentworth. There seems to be some connection in somebody's mind now present between Wentworth and Straford. I am not English. I do not know what it means. But they are somehow the same name, Wentworth and Straford. He gazed around, apparently, for confirmation. A lady came to his rescue. Wentworth was the surname of the great Earl of Straford, she murmured gently. And I was wondering, as you spoke, whether Mr. Wentworth might possibly be descended from him. He is, the seer replied instantly, with a flash of those dark eyes. And I thought this curious. For though my father always maintained the reality of the relationship, there was one link wanting to complete the pedigree. He could not make sure that the honourable Thomas Wilbrahim Wentworth was the father of Jonathan Wentworth, the Bristol horse dealer, from whom we are descended. Where was I born, so Charles interrupted, coming suddenly to his own case. The seer clapped his two hands to his forehead and held it between them, as if to prevent it from bursting. Africa, he said slowly, as the facts narrowed down, so to speak, South Africa. Cape of Good Hope. Chansonville. To Whitt Street, 1840. By Joe, he's correct, said Charles muttered. He seems really to do it. Still, he may have found me out. He may have known where he was coming. I never gave a hint, I answered. As he reached the door, he didn't even know to what hotel I was piloting in. The seer stroked his chin softly. His eye appeared to me to have a furtive gleam in it. Would you like me to tell you the number of a banknote enclosed in an envelope, he asked casually. Go out of the room, so Charles said, while I pass it round the company. Signor Herrera disappeared. So Charles passed it round cautiously, holding it all the time in his own hand, but letting his guests see the number. Then he placed it in an envelope and gummed it down firmly. The seer returned. His keen eyes swept the company with a comprehensive glance. He shook his shaggy mane. Then he took the envelope in his hands and gazed at it fixedly. A-F-7-3-5-4-9, he answered, in a slow tone. A Bank of England note for fifty pounds exchanged at the casino for gold one yesterday at Monte Carlo. I see how he did that, so Charles said triumphantly. He must have changed it there himself, and then I changed it back again. In point of fact, I remember seeing a fellow with long hair and loafing about. Still, it's capital conjuring. He can see through matter one of the ladies interposed. It was Madame Piccaday. He can see through a box. She drew a little gold vinaigrette such as our grandmother's used from her dress pocket. What is in this, she inquired, holding it up to him. Signor Herrera gazed through it. Three gold coins, he replied, knitting his brows with the effort of seeing into the box. One, an American five dollars. One, a French ten franc piece. One, twenty marks, German of the old Emperor William. She opened the box and passed it round. So Charles smiled a quiet smile. Confederacy, he muttered, after himself, confederacy. The seer turned to him with a sullen air. You want a better sign, he said, in a very impressive voice. A sign that will convince you? Very well. You have a letter in your left waistcoat pocket. A crumpled up letter. Do you wish me to read it out? I will if you desire it. It may seem to those who know Sir Charles incredible, but I am bound to admit my brother-in-law coloured. What that letter contained, I cannot say. He only answered very testily and evasively. No, thank you. I won't trouble you. The exhibition you have already given us of your skill in this kind more than amply suffices. And his fingers strayed nervously to his waistcoat pocket, as if he was half-afraid even then Signor Herrera would read it. I fancied too, he glanced somewhat anxiously towards Madame Picardet. The seer bowed courteously. Your will, Signor, is law, he said. I make it a principle, though I can see through all things invariably to respect the secrecies and sanctities. If it were not so, I might dissolve society. For which of us is there who could bear the whole truth being told about him? He gazed around the room. An unpleasant thrill supervened. Most of us felt this uncanny Spanish-American knew really too much and some of us were engaged in financial operations. For example, the seer continued blandly. I happened a few weeks ago to travel down here from Paris by train with a very intelligent man, a company promoter. He had in his bag some documents, some confidential documents. He glanced at Sir Charles. The kind of thing, my dear sir, reports from experts, from mining engineers. You may have seen some such marked strictly private. They form an element in high finance, Sir Charles admitted coldly. Precisely the seer murmured his accent for a moment less Spanish than before. And as they were marked strictly private, I respect, of course, the seal of confidence. That's all I wish to say. I hold it a duty, being entrusted with such powers, not to use them in a manner which may annoy or incommode my fellow-creatures. Your feeling does you honour, Sir Charles answered, with some acerbity. Then he whispered in my ear. Confounded clever scoundrels say. Rather wish we hadn't brought in here. Signor Herrera seemed intuitively to divine this wish, for he had opposed in a lighter and gayer tone. I will now show you a different and more interesting embodiment of occult power, for which we shall need a somewhat subdued arrangement of surrounding lights. Would you mind, senor host, for I have purposely abstained from reading your name on the brain of anyone present, would you mind my turning down this lamp just a little? So that will do. Now this one, and this one. Exactly, that's right. He poured a few grains of powder out of a packet into a saucer. Next a match, if you please. Thank you. It burnt with a strange green light. He drew from his pocket a card and produced a little ink bottle. How have you a pen? he asked. I instantly brought one. He handed it to Sir Charles. Oblige me, he said, by writing your name there. And he indicated a place in the centre of the card which had an embossed edge with a small middle square of a different colour. Sir Charles has a natural disinclination to signing his name without knowing why. What do you want with it? he asked. A millionaire's signature has so many uses. I want you to put the card in an envelope, the seer replied, and then to burn it. After that I shall show you your own name, written in letters of blood on my arm, in your own handwriting. Sir Charles took the pen. If the signature was to be burned as soon as finished, he didn't mind giving it. He wrote his name in his usual firm, clear style, the writing of a man who knows his worth and is not afraid of drawing a cheque for five thousand. Look at it long, the seer said, from the other side of the room. He had not watched him write it. Sir Charles stared at it fixedly. The seer was really beginning to produce an impression. Now put it in that envelope, the seer exclaimed. Sir Charles, like a lamb, placed it as directed. The seer strode forward. Give me the envelope, he said. He took it in his hand, walked over towards the fireplace, and solemnly burnt it. See, it crumbles into ashes, he cried. Then he came back to the middle of the room, close to the green light. Rolled up his sleeve, and held his arm before Sir Charles. There, in blood-red letters, my brother-in-law read the name, Charles Van Drift, in his own handwriting. I see how that's done, Sir Charles murmured, drawing back. It's a clever delusion, but still, I see through it. It's like that ghost-book. Your ink was deep green, your light was green. You made me look at it long, and then I saw the same thing written on the skin of your arm in complementary colours. You think so? The seer replied with a curious curl of a lip. I'm sure of it, Sir Charles answered. The flicker's lightning, the seer again rolled up his sleeve. That's your name, he cried, in a very clear voice, but not your whole name. What do you say, then, to my right? Is this one also a complementary colour? He held his other arm out. There, in sea-green letters, I read the name Charles O'Sullivan Van Drift. It is my brother-in-law's full baptismal designation, but he has dropped the O'Sullivan for many years past, and, to say the truth, doesn't like it. He is a little bit ashamed of his mother's family. Charles glanced at it hurriedly. Quite right! He said quite right! But his voice was hollow. I could guess he didn't care to continue the séance. He could see through the man, of course, but it was clear the fellow knew too much about us to be entirely pleasant. Turn at the lights, I said, and a servant turned them. Shall I say coffee and benedictine? I whispered to Van Drift. By all means, he answered, anything to keep this fellow from further impertenences. And I said, don't you think you'd better suggest, at the same time, that the men should smoke? Even these ladies are not above a cigarette. Some of them. There was a sigh of relief. The lights burned brightly. The seer, for the moment, retired from business, so to speak. He accepted a paltargo with very good grace. He sipped his coffee in a corner and chatted to the lady who had suggested Stratford with marked politeness. He was a polished gentleman. Next morning, in the hall of the hotel, I saw Madame Piccadé again in a neat tailor-made travelling dress evidently bound for the railway station. What? Off, Madame Piccadé? I cried. She smiled and held out her pritchily-gloved hand. Yes, I'm off, she answered, archly. Florence or Rome or somewhere. I've drained Nice dry like a sucked orange, got all the fun I can out of it. Now I'm away again to my beloved Italy. But it struck me as odd that if Italy was her game, she went by the omnibus, which takes down to the train Deluxe for Paris. However, a man of the world accepts what a lady tells him, no matter how improbable. And I confess, for ten days or so, I thought no more about her, or the seer, either. At the end of that time, our fortnightly passbook came in from the bank in London. It is part of my duty, as the millionaire's secretary, to make up this book once a fortnight, and to compare the cancelled checks with Sir Charles's counter-foils. On this particular occasion, I happen to observe what I can only describe as a very grave discrepancy. In fact, a discrepancy of five thousand pounds. On the wrong side, too. Sir Charles was debited with five thousand pounds more than the total amount that was shown on the counter-foils. I examined the book with care. The source of the error was obvious. It lay in a check to self, or bearer, for five thousand pounds, signed by Sir Charles, and evidently paid across the counter in London, as it bore on its face no stamp or indication of any other office. I called in my brother-in-law from the salon to the study. "'Look here, Charles,' I said. "'There's a check in the book which you haven't entered.' And I handed it to him without comment, for I thought it might have been drawn to settle some little loss on the turf or at cards, or to make up some other affair he didn't desire to mention to me. These things will happen.' He looked at it and stared hard. Then he pursed up his mouth and gave a long, low hue. At last he turned it over and remarked, "'I say, see, my boy, we've just been done jolly well brown, haven't we?' I glanced at the check. "'How do you mean?' I inquired. "'Why, the seer,' he replied, still staring at it roofily. "'I don't mind the far foul, but to think the fellow should have gammoned the pair of us like that. Ignominious, I call it. "'How do you know it's the seer?' I asked. "'Look at the green ink,' he answered. "'Decides, I recollect the very shape of the last flourish. "'I've flourished a bit like that in the excitement of the moment, which I don't always do with my regular signature.' "'He's done us,' I answered, recognizing it. "'But how the dickens do you manage to transfer it to the check?' "'This looks like your own handwriting, Charles. Not a clever forgery.' "'It is,' he said. "'I admit it, but I can't deny it.' "'Only fancy is bamboozling me when I was most on my guard. "'I want to be taken in by any viscili occult tricks and catch words. "'But it never occurred to me he was going to victimize me financially in this way.' I expected attempts at a loan or an extortion. "'But to collar my signature to a blank check, atrocious.' "'How did he manage it?' I asked. "'I haven't the faintest conception.' "'I only know those are the words I wrote. "'But I could swear to them anywhere.' "'Then you can't protest the check?' "'Unfortunately, no. "'It's my own true signature.' "'We went that afternoon without delay to see the chief commissary of police at the office. "'He was a gentlemanly Frenchman, much less formal and red-tapy than usual, and he spoke excellent English with an American accent, having acted, in fact, as a detective in New York for about ten years in his early manhood. "'He said slowly, after hearing our story, "'you've been victimized right here by Colonel Clay, gentlemen.' "'Who is Colonel Clay?' Sir Charles asked. "'That's just what I want to know,' the commissary answered in his curious American and French English. "'He is a Colonel because he occasionally gives himself a commission.' "'He is called Colonel Clay because he appears to possess an India rubber face, and he can mould it like Clay in a potter. "'Real name? Unknown.' "'Nationality? Equally French and English.' "'Address? Usually Europe. "'Profession? Former maker of wax figures to the Musée Grérin. "'Age? What he chooses?' "'Employs his knowledge to mould his own nose and cheeks with wax additions to the character he desires to personate. "'Aqualine this time, you say?' "'Anything like these photographs?' Sir Charles asked. "'Not in the least,' Sir Charles answered. "'Except perhaps as to the neck. "'Everything here is quite unlike him.' "'Then that's the Colonel,' the commissary answered, with decision, rubbing his hands in glee. "'Look here!' and he took out a pencil and rapidly sketched the outline of one of the two faces, that of a bland-looking young man with no expression worth mentioning. "'There's the Colonel in his simple disguise.' "'Very good. "'Now watch me.' "'Figure to yourself that he adds here a tiny patch of wax to his nose. "'An aquiline bridge? Just tell. "'Well, you have him right there. "'And the chin, one touch, now for hair a week. "'For complexion? Nothing easier. "'That's the profile of your rascal, isn't it?' "'Exactly,' we both murmured. "'By two curves of the pencil and a shock of false hair the face was transmuted. "'He had very large eyes with very big pupils, though, I objected, looking close, and the man in the photograph here has them small and boiled fishy. "'That's all,' the commissary answered. "'A drop of belladonna expands and produces the seer. "'Five grains of opium contract and give a dead alive, stupidly innocent appearance. "'Well, you leave this affair to me, gentlemen. I'll see the fun out. "'I don't say I'll catch him for you. "'Nobody ever yet has caught Colonel Clay, "'but I'll explain how he did the trick, "'and that ought to be consolation enough "'to a man of your means for a trifle of five thousand.' "'You are not the conventional French office-holder, "'Monsieur Le Commissaire,' I ventured to interpose. "'You bet,' the commissary replied and drew himself up like a captain of infantry. "'Monsieur,' he continued in French with the utmost dignity. "'I shall devote the resources of this office "'to tracing out the crime, "'for the culpable to effectuating the arrest of the culpable.' "'We telegraphed to London, of course, "'and we wrote to the bank "'with a full description of the suspected person. "'But I need hardly add that nothing came of it. "'Three days later the commissary called at our hotel. "'Well, gentlemen,' he said, "'I am glad to say I have discovered everything. "'What? Arrested the seer?' the Charles cried. "'The commissary drew back, "'almost horrified at the suggestion. "'Arrested Colonel Clay,' he exclaimed. "'Monsieur, we are only human. "'Arrested him?' "'No, not quite, but tracked out how he did it. "'That is already much, "'to unravel Colonel Clay, gentlemen.' "'Well, what do you make of it?' the Charles asked, crestfallen. The commissary sat down and gloated over his discovery. It was clear a well-planned crime amused him vastly. "'In the first place, Monsieur,' he said, "'abuse your mind of the idea that when Monsieur your secretary "'went out to fetch Signor Herrera that night, "'Signor Herrera didn't know to whose rooms he was coming. "'Quite otherwise, in point of fact. "'I do not doubt myself that Signor Herrera, "'or Colonel Clay, calling which you like, "'came to niece this winter for no other purpose "'than just to rob you. "'But I sent for him,' my brother-in-law interposed. "'Yes, he meant you to send for him.' "'It was a card, so to speak.' "'If you couldn't do that, I guess he would be a pretty poor conjurer. "'He had a lady of his own, "'his wife, let us say, or his sister, "'stopping here at this hotel, "'a certain Madame Picardet. "'Through her he induced several ladies of your circle "'to attend his séances. "'She and they spoke to you about him "'and aroused your curiosity. "'You may bet your bottom dollar "'that when he came to this room he came ready, "'and prepared with endless facts about both of you. "'What fools we have been to see,' my brother-in-law exclaimed. "'I see it all now. "'That designing woman sent round before dinner "'to say I wanted to meet him. "'And by the time you got there, "'he was ready for bamboozling me.' "'That's so,' the Commissary answered. "'He had your name ready painted on both his arms, "'and he had made other preparations "'of still greater importance. "'You mean the cheque? "'Get it!' the Commissary opened the door. "'Come in,' he said. "'And a young man entered whom we recognised at once "'as the chief clerk in the Foreign Department "'of the Crédit Marseille, the principal bank, "'all along the Riviera. "'State what you know of this cheque,' the Commissary said, "'showing it to him, "'or we had handed it over to the police "'as a piece of evidence. "'About four weeks since,' the clerk began, "'say ten days before your séance,' the Commissary interposed. "'A gentleman with very long hair "'and an aquiline nose, dark, strange and handsome, "'called in at my department "'and asked if I could tell him the name "'of Sir Charles Van Drift's London banker. "'He said he had a sum to pay into your credit "'and asked if we would forward it for him. "'I told him it was irregular "'for us to receive the money, "'as you had no account with us, "'but that your London bankers were Darby Drummond and Rothenberg Limited. "'Two days later, a lady, Madame Piccadet, "'who was a customer of ours, "'brought in a good cheque for three hundred pounds "'signed by a first-rate name "'and asked us to pay it in on her behalf "'to Darby Drummond and Rothenberg's "'and to open a London account with them for her. "'We did so and received in reply a cheque-book, "'from which this cheque was taken "'as I learned from the number "'by Telegram from London,' the Commissary put in. "'Although, that on the same day "'in which your cheque was cashed, "'Madame Piccadet in London withdrew her balance. "'But how did the fellow get me "'to sign the cheque?' said Charles, cried. "'How did he manage the card-trick?' "'The Commissary produced a similar card from his pocket. "'Was that the sort of thing?' he asked. "'Precisely, a facsimile.' "'I thought so. "'Well, our colonel, I find, "'bought a packet of such cards "'intended for admission to a religious function "'at a shop in the Camassina. "'Cut out the centre, and see here. "'The Commissary turned it over "'and showed a piece of paper "'pasted neatly over the back. "'This he tore off, "'and there concealed behind it. "'Lay a folded cheque, "'with only the place where the signature "'should be written, "'showing through on the face "'which the seer had resented to us.' "'I called that a neat trick,' "'the Commissary remarked, "'with professional enjoyment "'of a really good deception. "'But he burnt the envelope before my eyes,' the child exclaimed. "'Pooh!' the Commissary answered. "'What would he be worth as a conjurer anyway "'if he couldn't substitute one envelope for another "'between the table and the fireplace "'without your noticing it? "'And Colonel Clay, you must remember, "'is a prince among conjurers.' "'Well, it's a comfort to know "'we've identified our man, "'so Charles said, with a slight sigh of relief. "'The next thing will be, of course. "'You'll follow them up on these clues in England "'and arrest them.' The Commissary shrugged his shoulders. "'Arrest them,' he exclaimed, "'much amused. "'Ah, Monsieur, but you are sanguine. "'No officer of justice has ever succeeded "'in arresting Colonel Coutrouc, "'as we call him in French. "'He is as slippery as an eel, that man. "'He wriggles through our fingers. "'Suppose even we caught him, "'what could we prove?' I ask you. "'Nobody who has seen him once "'can ever swear to him again in his next impersonation. "'He is impayable, this good colonel.' "'On the day when I arrest him, "'I assure you, Monsieur, "'I shall consider myself the smartest "'police officer in Europe.' "'Well, I shall catch him yet,' so Charles answered, and relapsed into silence. End of Chapter 1 Chapter 2 of an African millionaire Episodes in the Life of the Illustrious Colonel Clay This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kirsten Weber. Chapter 2 of an African millionaire Episodes in the Life of the Illustrious Colonel Clay by Grant Allen The episode of the Diamond Links "'Let us take a trip to Switzerland,' said Lady Van Drift, and anyone who knows Amelia will not be surprised to learn that we did take a trip to Switzerland accordingly. Nobody can drive Sir Charles except his wife, and nobody at all can drive Amelia. There were difficulties at the outset because we had not ordered rooms at the hotels beforehand and it was well on in the season. But they were overcome at last by the usual application of a golden key, and we found ourselves in due time pleasantly quartered in Lecerne at that most comfortable of European hostelries, the Schweitzerhof. We were a square party of four, Sir Charles and Amelia, myself and Isabelle. We had nice big rooms on the first floor, overlooking the lake, and as none of us was possessed with the faintest symptom of that incipient mania, which shows itself in the form of an insane desire to climb mountain heights of disagreeable steepness and unnecessary snowiness, I will venture to assert we all enjoyed ourselves. We spent most of our time, sensibly, in lounging about the lake on the jolly little steamers, and when we did a mountain climb it was on the Reiki or Pilatus, where an engine undertook all the muscular work for us. As usual at the hotel a great many miscellaneous people showed a burning desire to be specially nice to us. If you wish to see how friendly and charming humanity is, just try being a well-known millionaire for a week, and you'll learn a thing or two. Whenever Sir Charles goes he is surrounded by charming and disinterested people, all eager to make his distinguished acquaintance and all familiar with the several excellent investments or several deserving objects of Christian charity. It is my business in life, as his brother-in-law and secretary, to decline with thanks the excellent investments and to throw judicious cold water on the objects of charity. Even I myself, as the great man's Elminer, am very much sought after. People casually allude before me to artless stories of poor curates in Cumberland, you know Mr. Wentworth, or widows in Cornwall, penniless poets with epics in their desks, and young painters who need but the breath of a patron to open to them the doors of an admiring anatomy. I smile and look wise while I administer cold water in minute doses, but I never report one of these cases to Sir Charles, except in the rare or almost unheard of event where I think there is really something in them. Ever since our little adventure with the seer at Nice, Sir Charles, who is constitutionally cautious, had been even more careful than usual about possible sharpers. And as Chance would have it, there sat just opposite us at Tabledot at the Schwarzerhof, tis a fad of Amelia's to dying at Tabledot. She says she can't bear to be boxed up all day in private rooms with too much family. A sinister looking man with dark hair and eyes conspicuous by his bushy overhanging eyebrows. My attention was first called to the eyebrows in question by a nice little parson who sat at our side and who observed that they were made up of certain large and bristly hairs, which, he told us, had been traced by Darwin to our monkey ancestors. Very pleasant little fellow, this fresh-faced young parson, on his honeymoon tour with a nice wee wife, a bonnie scotch lassie with a charming accent. I looked at the eyebrows close. Then a sudden thought struck me. Do you believe they're his own, I asked of the curate, or are they only stuck on, a makeup disguise? They really almost look like it. You don't suppose, Charles began, and checked himself suddenly. Yes, I do, I answered, the seer. Then I recollected my blunder and looked down sheepishly, for, to say the truth, Van Drift had straightly enjoined on me long before to say nothing of our painful little episode at Nice to Amelia. He was afraid if she once heard of it, he would hear of it forever. What seer, the little parson inquired with parsonical curiosity? I noticed the man with the overhanging eyebrows give a queer sort of start. Charles's glance was fixed upon me. I hardly knew what to answer. Oh, a man who was at Nice with us last year, I stammered out, trying hard to look unconcerned. A fellow they talked about, that's all. And I turned the subject. But the curate, like a donkey, wouldn't let me turn it. Had he eyebrows like that, he inquired, in an undertone. I was really angry. If this was Colonel Clay, the curate was obviously giving him the cue and making it much more difficult for us to catch him. Now we might possibly have lighted on the chance of doing so. No, he hadn't, I answered, testily. It was a passing expression, but this is not the man. I was mistaken, no doubt. And I nudged him gently. The little curate was too innocent for anything. Oh, I see, he replied, nodding hard and looking wise. Then he turned it to his wife and made an obvious face, which the man with the eyebrows couldn't fail to notice. Fortunately a political discussion going on a few places farther down the table spread up to us and diverted attention for a moment. The magical name of Gladstone saved us. Sir Charles flared up. I was truly pleased, for I could see Amelia was boiling over with curiosity by this time. After dinner in the billiard room, however, the man with the big eyebrows sidled up and began to talk to me. If he was Colonel Clay, it was evident he bore us no grudge at all for the five thousand pounds he had done us out of. On the contrary, he seemed quite prepared to do us out of five thousand more when the opportunity offered, for he introduced himself at once as Dr. Hector MacPherson, the exclusive grantee of extensive concessions from the Brazilian government on the upper Amazons. He dived into conversation with me at once as to the splendid mineral resources of his Brazilian estate, the silver, the platinum, the actual rubies, the possible diamonds. I listened and smiled. I knew what was coming. All he needed to develop this magnificent concession was a little more capital. It was sad to see thousands of pounds worth of platinum and carloads of rubies just crumbling in the soil or carried away by the river for a want of a few hundreds to work them with properly. If he knew of anybody now with money to invest, he could recommend him, nay, offer him, a unique opportunity of earning, say, forty percent on his capital on unimpeachable security. I wouldn't do it for every man, Dr. Hector MacPherson remarked, drawing himself up. But if I took a fancy to a fellow who had command of ready cash, I might choose to put him in the way of feathering his nest with unexampled rapidity. Exceedingly disinterested of you, I answered a dryly, fixing my eyes on his eyebrows. A little curate, meanwhile, was playing billiards with Sir Charles. His glance followed mine as it rested for a moment on the monkey-like hairs. False, obviously false, he remarked with his lips, and I'm bound to confess I never saw any man speak so well by movement alone. You could follow every word, though not a sound escaped him. During the rest of that evening, Dr. Hector MacPherson stuck to me as close as mustard plaster, and he was almost as irritating. I got heartily sick of the upper Amazons. I have positively waited in my time through ruby minds, in prospectuses, I mean, till the mere sight of a ruby almost sickens me. When Charles, in an unwonted fit of generosity, once gave his sister Isabelle, whom I had the honour to marry, a ruby necklace, inferior stones, I made Isabelle change it for sapphires and amethysts, on the judicious plea that they suit her complexion better. I scored one, incidentally, for having considered Isabelle's complexion. By the time I went to bed I was prepared to sink the upper Amazons in the sea and to stab, shoot, poison, or otherwise seriously damage the man with the concession and the false eyebrows. For the next three days at intervals he returned to the charge. He bored me to death with his platinum and his rubies. He didn't want a capitalist who would personally exploit the thing. He would prefer to do it all on his own account, giving the capitalist-preferenced adventures of his bogus company and a lean on the concession. I listened and smiled. I listened and yawned. I listened and was rude. I ceased to listen at all. But still he droned on with it. I fell asleep on the steamer one day and woke up in ten minutes to hear him droning yet. And the yield of platinum per ton was certified to be. I forget how many pounds or ounces or penny weights these details of assays have ceased to interest me. Like the man who didn't believe in ghosts I have seen too many of them. The fresh-faced little curate and his wife, however, were quite different people. He was a cricketing Oxford man. She was a breezy scotch lass with a wholesome breath of the highlands about her. I called her White Heather. Their name was Brabazon. Millionaires are so accustomed to being beset by harpies of every description that when they come across a young couple who are simple and natural they delight in the purely human relation. We picnicked and went excursions a great deal with the honeymooners. They were so frank in their young love and so proof against chaff that we all really liked them. But whenever I called the pretty girl White Heather she looked so shocked and cried, Oh, Mr. Wentworth. The curate offered to row us in a boat on the lake one day, while the scotch lassie assured us she could take an oar almost as well as he did. However we did not accept their offer as row boats exert an unfavorable influence upon Amelia's digestive organs. Nice young fellow, that man Brabazon, so Charles said to me one day as we lounge together along the quay, never talks about add vowsons or next presentations, doesn't seem to me to care two pins about promotion, says he's quite content in his country curacy, enough to live upon and needs no more, that his wife has a little but very little money. I asked him about his poor today on purpose to test him. These parsons are always trying to screw something out of one for the poor. Men in my position know the truth of the saying that we have that class of the population always with us. Would you believe it, he says he hasn't any poor at all in his parish. They're all well to do farmers or else able-bodied laborers and his one terror is that somebody will come and try to pauperize them. If a philanthropist were to give me fifty pounds today for use at Empingham, he said, I assure you Sir Charles I shouldn't know what to do with it. I think I should buy new dresses for Jesse who wants them about as much as anybody else in the village, that is to say not at all. There's a parson for you see my boy, only wish we had one of his sword at Selden. He certainly doesn't want to get anything out of you my answered. That evening at dinner a queer little episode happened. The man with the eyebrows began talking to me across the table in his usual fashion full of his wearisome concession on the upper Amazons. I was trying to squash him as politely as possible when I caught Amelia's eye. Her look amused me. She was engaged in making signals to Charles at her side to observe the little curiot's curious sleeve links. I glanced at them and saw it once they were a singular possession for so unobtrusive a person. They consisted each of a short gold bar for one arm of the link, fastened by a tiny chain of the same material to what seemed to my tolerably experienced eye a first rate diamond. Pretty big diamonds too and of remarkable shape, brilliancy and cutting. In a moment I knew what Amelia meant. She owned a diamond Riviere, said to be of Indian origin, but short by two stones for the circumference of her tolerably ample neck. Now she had long been wanting two diamonds like these to match her set but owing to the unusual shape and antiquated cutting of her own gems she had never been able to complete the necklace, at least without removing an extravagant amount from a much larger stone of the first water. The Scotch Lassie's eyes caught Amelia's at the same time and she broke into a pretty smile of good humored amusement. Taken in another person, Dick Deer, she exclaimed in her breezy way turning to her husband, Lady Van Drift is observing your diamond sleeve links. They're very fine gems, Amelia observed in cautiously. A most unwise admission if she desired to buy them. But the pleasant little curate was too transparently simple a soul to take advantage of her slip of judgment. They are good stones, he replied. Very good stones, considering. They're not diamonds at all to tell you the truth. They're best old-fashioned oriental paste. My great-grandfather bought them after the siege of Seren Jatapam for a few rupees from a sepoy who had looted them from Tipu Sultan's palace. He thought like you he had got a good thing. But it turned out when they came to be examined by experts they were only paste. Very wonderful paste. It is supposed they have even opposed upon Tipu himself. So fine is the imitation. But they are worth, well, say, 50 shillings at the at most. While he spoke, Charles looked at Amelia and Amelia looked at Charles. Their eyes spoke volumes. The Riviera was also supposed to have come from Tipu's collection. Both drew at once an identical conclusion. These were two of the same stones. Very likely torn apart and disengaged from the rest in the melee at the capture of the palace. Can you take them off? Sir Charles asked blandly. He spoke in the tone that indicates business. Certainly the little curate answered smiling. I'm accustomed to taking them off. They are always noticed. They've been kept in the family ever since the siege as a sort of valueless heirloom for the sake of the picturesqueness of the story you know to examine them closely. They deceive even experts at first. But they're paced all the same. Unmitigated oriental paste for all that. He took them both off and handed them to Charles. No man in England is a finer judge of gems than my brother-in-law. I watched him narrowly. He examined them close, first with the naked eye, then with the little pocket lens admirable imitation he muttered, passing them on to Amelia. I'm not surprised they should impose upon inexperienced observers. But from the tone in which he said it I could see it once he had satisfied himself they were real gems of unusual value. I know Charles's way of doing business so well. His glance to Amelia meant these are the very stones we've all been in search of. The scotch lassie laughed a merry laugh. He seized through them now, Dick, she cried. I felt sure Sir Charles would be a judge of diamonds. Amelia turned them over. I know Amelia too and I knew from the way Amelia looked at them that she meant to have them. And when Amelia means to have anything people who stand in the way may just as well spare themselves from imposing her. They were beautiful diamonds. We found out afterwards the little curate's account was quite correct. These stones had come from the same necklace as Amelia's Riviera made for a favorite wife of Tipou's who had presumably as expansive personal charms as our beloved sister-in-laws. More perfect diamonds have seldom been seen. They have excited the universal admiration of the rich and connoisseurs. Amelia told me afterwards that according to the legend a sepoy stole the necklace at the sack of the palace and then fought with another for it. It was believed that two stones got split in the scuffle and were picked up and sold by a third person a look-a-rom who had no idea of the value of his booty. Amelia had been hunting for them for several years to complete her necklace. They are excellent paste, Sir Charles observed handing them back. It takes a first-rate judge to detect them from the reality. Lady Van Drift has a necklace much the same in character, but composed of genuine stones, and as these are so much like them and would complete her set to all outer appearance, I wouldn't mind giving you, say, ten pounds for the pair of them. Mrs. Brabazon looked delighted. Oh, sell them to him, Dick, she cried. And buy me a brooch with the money. A pair of common links would do for you just as well. Ten pounds for two-paced stones it's quite a lot of money. She said it so sweetly with her pretty scotch accent that I couldn't imagine how Dick had the heart to refuse her. But he did all the same. No, Jess, darling, he answered, they're worthless, I know, but they have for me a certain sentimental value as I've often told you. My dear mother wore them while she lived as ear-rings. And as soon as she died I had them set as links in order that I might always keep them about me. Besides, they have historical and family interest. Even a worthless heirloom, after all, is an heirloom. Dr. Hector McPherson looked across and intervened. There is a part of my concession, he said, where we have reason to believe a perfect new Kimberly will soon be discovered. If at any time you would care, Sir Charles, to look at my diamonds when I get them, it would afford me the greatest pleasure in life to submit them to your consideration. Sir Charles could stand it no longer. Sir, he said, gazing across at him with his sternest air. If your concession were as full of diamonds as Sinbad's the Sailor's Valley I would not care to turn my head to look at them. I am acquainted with the nature and practice of salting. And he glared at the man with the overhanging eyebrows as if he would devour him raw. Poor Dr. Hector McPherson subsided instantly. We learned a little later that he was a harmless lunatic who went about the world with successive concessions for ruby minds and platinum reefs because he had been ruined and driven mad by speculations in the two and now recouped himself by imaginary grants in Burma and Brazil or anywhere else that turned up handy. And his eyebrows after all were of nature's handicraft. We were sorry for the incident, but a man in Sir Charles's position is such a mark for Rogues that if he did not take means to protect himself promptly he would be forever overrun by them. When we went up to our salon that evening Amelia flung herself on the sofa. Charles, she broke out in the voice of a tragedy queen those are real diamonds and I shall never be happy again till I get them. They are real diamonds, Charles echoed and you shall have them, Amelia. They're worth not less than three thousand pounds, but I shall bid them up gently. So next day Charles set to work to higgle with the curate. Brabazon however didn't care to part with them. He was no money grubber, he said. He cared more for his mother's gift and a family tradition than a hundred pounds if Sir Charles were to offer it. Charles's eye gleamed. But if I give you two hundred he said insinuatingly what opportunities for good you could build a new wing on your village schoolhouse. We have ample accommodation curate answered. No, I don't think I'll sell them. Still his voice faltered somewhat and he looked down at them inquiringly. Two precipitate. A hundred pounds more or less matters little to me, he said, and my wife has set her heart on them. It's every man's duty to please his wife, isn't it, Mrs. Brabazon? I offer you three hundred. The little Scott's girl clasped her hands. Three hundred pounds! Oh, dick! Just think what fun we could have and what good we could do with it. Do let him have them. Her accent was irresistible but the curate shook his head. Impossible, he answered. My dear mother's earrings. Uncle Aubrey would be so angry if he knew I'd sold them. I dare not face Uncle Aubrey. Has he expectations from Uncle Aubrey, Sir Charles asked of White Heather? Mrs. Brabazon laughed. Uncle Aubrey, oh dear no. Poor dear old Uncle Aubrey. Why the darling old soul hasn't a penny to bless himself with except his pension? He's a retired post-captain. And she laughed melodiously. She was a charming woman. Then I should disregard Uncle Aubrey's feelings, so Charles said decisively. No, no, the curate answered. Poor dear old Uncle Aubrey. I wouldn't do anything for the world to annoy him. And he'd be sure to notice it. We went back to Amelia. Well, have you got them? She asked. No, Sir Charles answered. Not yet. But he's coming round, I think. He's hesitating now. Would rather like to sell them himself, but is afraid what Uncle Aubrey would say about the matter. His wife will talk him out of his needless consideration for Uncle Aubrey's feelings. So we'll finally clench the bargain. Next morning we stayed late in our salon where we always breakfasted and did not come down to the public room till just before dejeuner, so Charles being busy with me over arrears of correspondence. When we did come down the concierge stepped forward with a twisted little feminine note for Amelia. She took it and read it. Her countenance fell. There Charles she cried, handing it to him. You've let this chance slip. I'll never be happy now. They've gone off with the diamonds. Charles seized the note and read it. Then he passed it on to me. It was short, but final. Thursday 6 a.m. Dear Lady Van Drift Will you kindly excuse our having gone off hurriedly good-bye? We have just had a horrid telegram to say that Dick's favoured sister is dangerously ill of fever in Paris. I wanted to shake hands with you before we left you. You have all been so sweet to us. But we go by the morning train absurdly early and I wouldn't for the worlds disturb you. Perhaps some day we shall meet again. Though buried as we are in a North Country village surely, but in any case you have secured the grateful recollection of yours very cordially Jesse Brabazon. P.S. Kindest regards to Sir Charles and those dear Wentworths and a kiss for yourself if I may venture to send you one. She doesn't even mention where they've gone, Amelia exclaimed, in a very bad humour. Others may know, Isabel suggested looking over my shoulder. We asked at his office Yes, the gentleman's address was the reverend Richard people Brabazon, Holm-Busch Cottage, Empingham, Northumberland. Any address where letters might be sent at once in Paris? For the next ten days or till further notice Hotel des deux mondes Avenue L'Opéra Amelia's mind was made up at once. Strike while the iron's hot, she cried this sudden illness coming at the end of their honeymoon and involving ten days more stay at an expensive hotel will probably upset the curate's budget he'll be glad to sell now you'll get them for a three hundred it was absurd of Charles to offer so much at first but offered once, of course we must stick to it. Just to do, Charles asked write or telegraph Oh, how silly men are Amelia cried Is this the sort of business to be arranged by letter, still less by telegram? No, Seymour must start off at once taking the night train to Paris and the moment he gets there he must interview the curate or Mrs. Brabazon Mrs. Brabazon's the best she has none of this stupid sentimental nonsense about Uncle Albury it is no part of a secretary's duties to act as a diamond broker but when Amelia puts her foot down she puts her foot down a fact which she is unnecessarily fond of emphasizing in that identical proposition so the self-same evening saw me safe in the train on my way to Paris and the next morning I turned out of my comfortable sleeping car at the Gavin de Strasbourg my orders were to bring back those diamonds alive or dead so to speak, in my pocket to Lecerne and to offer any needful sum up to 2,500 pounds for their immediate purchase when I arrived at the du Monde I found the poor little curate and his wife both greatly agitated they had sat up all night they said with their invalid sister and the sleeplessness and suspense had certainly told upon them after their long railway journey they were pale and tired Mrs. Brabazon in particular looking ill and worried too much like White Heather I was more than half ashamed of bothering them about the diamonds at such a moment but it occurred to me that Amelia was probably right they would now have reached the end of the sums set apart for their continental trip a little ready cash might be far from unwelcome I approached the subject delicately it was a fad of Lady Van Drifts, I said she had set her heart upon those useless trinkets and she wouldn't go without them she must and would have them but the curate was obdurate he threw Uncle Aubrey still in my teeth 300, no, never a mother's present impossible dear Jessie Jessie begged and prayed she had grown really attached to Lady Van Drift, she said but the curate wouldn't hear of it I went up tentatively to 400 he shook his head gloomily it wasn't a question of money, he said it was a question of affection I thought it was no use trying to attack any longer I struck out a new line these stones I said I think I ought to inform you are really diamonds so Charles is certain of it now is it right for a man of your profession and position to be wearing a pair of big gems like those worth several hundred pounds as ordinary sleeve links a woman yes I grant you but for a man is it manly and you a cricketer he looked at me and laughed will nothing convince you he cried they have been examined and tested by half a dozen jewelers and we know them to be paced it wouldn't be right of me to sell them to you under false pretenses however unwilling on my side I couldn't do it well then I said going up a bit in my beds to meet them I'll put it like this gems are paced but lady van drift has an unconquerable and unaccountable desire to possess them money doesn't matter to her she's a friend of your wife's as a personal favor won't you sell them to her for a thousand he shook his head it would be wrong he said I might even add criminal but we take all risk I cried he was absolutely adamant as a clergyman he answered I feel I cannot do it will you try Mrs. Brabazon I asked the pretty little scotch woman leaned over and whispered she coaxed she could jolt him her ways were winsome I couldn't hear what she said but he seemed to give way at last I should love lady van drift to have them she murmured turning to me she is such a dear and she took out the links from her husband's cuffs and handed them across to me how much I asked two thousand she answered interrogatively it was a big rise all at once but such are the ways of women done I replied do you consent the curate looked up as if ashamed of himself I consent he said slowly since Jesse wishes it but as a clergyman and to prevent any future misunderstanding I should like you to give me a statement in writing that you buy them on my distinct and positive declaration that they are made of paste old oriental paste not genuine stones and that I do not claim any other qualities for them I popped the gems into my purse well pleased certainly I said pulling out a paper Charles with his unerring business instinct had anticipated the request and given me a signed agreement to that effect you will take a check I inquired he hesitated notes of the bank of France would suit me better he answered very well I replied I will go out and get them how very unsuspicious some people are he allowed me to go off with the stones in my pocket Sir Charles had given me a blank check not exceeding 2,500 pounds I took it to our agents and cashed it for notes of the bank of France the curate clasped them with pleasure and right glad I was to go back to Lucerne that night feeling that I had got those diamonds into my hands for about a thousand pounds for their real value at Lucerne railway station Amelia met me she was positively agitated have you bought them see more she asked yes I answered producing my spoils in triumph oh how dreadful she cried drawing back do you think they're real are you sure he hasn't cheated you certain of it I replied examining them in the matter of diamonds why on earth should you doubt them because I've been talking to Mrs. O'Hagan at the hotel and she says there's a well-known trick just like that she's read of it in a book a swindler has two sets one real one false and he makes you buy the false ones by showing you the real and pretending he sells them as a special favor you needn't be alarmed I answered I am a judge of diamonds I shan't be satisfied Amelia murmured till Charles has seen them we went up to the hotel for the first time in her life I saw Amelia really nervous as I handed the stones to Charles to examine her doubt was contagious I half feared myself he might break out into a deep monosyllabic interjection losing his temper in haste as he often does when things go wrong but he looked at them with a smile while I told him the price 800 pounds less than their value he answered well satisfied you have no doubt of their reality not the slightest he replied gazing at them they are genuine stones precisely the same in quality and type as Amelia's necklace Amelia drew a sigh of relief I'll go upstairs she said slowly and bring down my own for you both to compare with them one minute later she rushed down again breathless Amelia is far from slim and I never before knew her to exert herself so actively Charles, Charles she cried do you know what dreadful thing has happened two of my own stones are gone he's stolen a couple of diamonds from my necklace come back to me she held out the revere it was all too true two gems were missing and these two just fitted the empty places a light broke in upon me I clapped my hand to my head by jove I exclaimed the little curate is Colonel Clay Charles clapped his own hand to his brow in turn and Jesse he cried white Heather that innocent little scotch woman I often detected a familiar ring in her voice in spite of the charming island accent Jesse is Madame Picardet we had absolutely no evidence but like the commissariat Nice we felt instinctively sure of it so Charles was determined to catch the rogue this second deception put him on his metal the worst of the man is he has a method he doesn't go out of his way to cheat us he makes us go out of hours to be cheated he lays a trap and we tumble headlong into it tomorrow see we must follow him on to Paris Amelia explained to him what Mrs. O'Hagan had said Charles took it all in at once with his usual sagacity that explains he said why the rascal used this particular trick to draw us on by if we had suspected him he could have shown the diamonds were real and so escaped detection it was a blind to draw us off from the fact of robbery he went to Paris to be out of the way when the discovery was made and to get a clear day's start of us what a consummate rogue and to do me twice running how did he get at my jewel case though Amelia exclaimed that's the question Charles answered you do leave it about so and why didn't he steal the whole Riviera at once and sell the gems to cunning Charles replied this was much better business it isn't easy to dispose of a big thing like that in the first place the stones are large and valuable in the second place they're well known every dealer has heard of the van Drift Riviera and seen the pictures of the shape of them they're marked gems so to speak no he played a better game took a couple of them off offered them to the only one person on earth who was likely to buy them without suspicion he came here meaning to work this very trick he had the links made right to the shape beforehand and then he stole the stones and slipped them into their places it's a wonderfully clever trick on my soul I almost admire the fellow for Charles is a businessman himself and can appreciate business capacity in others how Colonel Clay came to know about that necklace and to appropriate two of the stones we only discovered much later not here anticipate that disclosure one thing at a time is a good rule in life for the moment he succeeded in baffling us all together however we followed him on to Paris telegraphing beforehand to the bank of France to stop the notes it was all in vain they had been cashed within half an hour of my paying them the curate and his wife we found quitted the Hotel des Des Monde four parts unknown that same afternoon and as usual with Colonel Clay they vanished into space leaving no clue behind them in other words they changed their disguise no doubt and reappeared somewhere else that night in altered characters at any rate no such person as the Reverend Richard People Bravison was ever afterwards heard of and for the matter of that no such village exists as in England we communicated the matter to the Parisian police they were most unsympathetic it is no doubt Colonel Clay said the official whom we saw but you seem to have little just ground or complaint against him as far as I can see Monsieur there is not much to choose between you you Monsieur de Chevalier desired to buy diamonds at the price of paste Madame feared you had bought paste at the price of diamonds you Monsieur the secretary tried to get the stones from an unsuspecting person for half their value he took you all in that brave Colonel Couchuch it was diamond cut diamond which was true no doubt but by no means consoling we returned to the Grand Hotel Charles was fuming with indignation this is really too much he exclaimed what an audacious rascal but he will never again take me in my dear see I only hope he'll try it on I should love to catch him I'd know him another time I'm sure in spite of his disguises it's absurd my being tricked twice running like this but never again while I live again I declare to you a courier in the hall close by murmured responsive we stood under the veranda of the Grand Hotel in the big glass courtyard and I verily believe that courier was really Colonel Clay himself in one of his disguises but perhaps we were beginning to suspect him everywhere end of chapter 2