Chapter XIV: Burgoyne Starts a New Trail

On hearing the jeweller make this remarkable pronouncement, Burgoyne, who had been glancing around the room in a careless fashion, suddenly became very serious, and sitting down on a chair which happened to be placed immediately behind him, crossed his hands on the crook of his umbrella, and stared hard at the man who confronted him from the other side of the table.

“I--perhaps I didn’t quite catch what you said, Mr. Levanter,” he remarked. “I am a little absent-minded, and sometimes think about one thing when I ought to be attending to another.”

Mr. Levanter cleared his throat and laid a finger on the diamond necklace.

“I said, Captain Burgoyne, that these are not diamonds,” he repeated. “They are paste.”

Burgoyne nodded.

“Paste, eh?” he said. “Paste! You are--certain?”

The jeweller shrugged his shoulders and smiled. And Burgoyne suddenly remembered Mr. Levanter’s reputation.

“Of course, of course!” he made haste to say. “Of course you will know. Dear me! But this is very extraordinary, Mr. Levanter--it is exceedingly extraordinary.”

Mr. Levanter looked a polite inquiry.

“You were quite under the impression that these were--genuine stones?” he suggested.

Burgoyne indulged himself in a second of sardonic laughter.

“I will tell you a little story, Mr. Levanter,” he said. “That necklace--which is believed, on the best evidence, to have belonged to the Empress Maria Louisa--has been in possession of my family for a good hundred years. I can testify that ever since I was a small boy it had never been out of the hands of my father or myself until three years ago, when I lost sight of it under circumstances which I will tell you of. But first let me tell you that, not long before his death, my father had that necklace valued--it was then said to be worth about ten thousand pounds.”

Mr. Levanter tapped the necklace again.

“If these had been real stones,” he said, “I should have valued this necklace at between eleven and twelve thousand pounds.”

“Very good,” said Burgoyne. “Well, now, Mr. Levanter, I am perfectly certain, absolutely certain, that what I had put into my hands by my father on his death-bed was the necklace which had been valued at about ten thousand. And it never went out of my personal possession until, three years ago, I deposited it with an acquaintance as security for a loan of five thousand pounds. That acquaintance is now dead, but he took great pains to ensure that I should recover my necklace. And yesterday I paid his executors the amount of the loan and the accrued interest, and the necklace was then fetched from the bank in which it had been deposited. As I thought of selling it, I brought it to you for valuation. And--you tell me it is paste. No--what you really tell me, Mr. Levanter, is that that is not my necklace at all, but is--what? Surely, something that has been substituted for it!”

The jeweller shook his head and, picking up the object which lay between them, looked at it narrowly and thoughtfully.

“You thought, of course, that this was your necklace when you recovered possession of it yesterday?” he asked.

“It seemed to me the exact article with which I parted three years ago,” answered Burgoyne.

“The setting, now?” suggested the jeweller. “Do you recognize that? It is, you see, obviously old, of an old-fashioned pattern, a good deal worn, and somewhat discoloured. But of such a setting as this it would be quite easy to make an exact duplicate in a few days.”

“I am not certain that what you now hold in your hands is the setting of my diamonds,” said Burgoyne.

“Then the matter is plain,” said Mr. Levanter. “During the time that your necklace was in the hands of--of the acquaintance you referred to, it was taken out of his safe, and a very well and cleverly made imitation was substituted for it. That--er--acquaintance, now--was he quite honest, Captain Burgoyne?”

“I believe he was perfectly honest,” replied Burgoyne. “I can’t bring myself to think that he would do what you suggest has been done.”

“What certainly has been done,” said the jeweller. “But do you know what became of your necklace while it was in the hands of this acquaintance?”

“Yes, I do. In my presence it was sealed up and deposited in his safe,” Burgoyne answered. “There it remained until his death, when, in consequence of written orders from him, his daughter and his solicitor removed it to the bank from which it was fetched yesterday morning. And to cut matters short--both solicitor and daughter are above suspicion.”

“Quite so,” said Mr. Levanter. “Then I think one can come to only one conclusion: the substitution of the false for the real was done by some person who had access to your acquaintance’s safe--during his lifetime.”

Burgoyne looked steadily at the jeweller for a moment as if taking in the full effect of his words, as if realizing all that they meant.

“Ah!” he said at last. “Yes--I think you’re right. During his lifetime, eh? Yes--it must have been. During his lifetime, of course.”

Mr. Levanter coughed discreetly behind his white fingers.

“May I ask if this--er--acquaintance was a business man?” he said.

“He was--a business man.”

“Employing clerks--assistants?”

“Yes--some.”

Mr. Levanter nodded as if he wished to confirm his opinions to some person whom he saw in his mind’s eye.

“He was a very foolish man, your deceased acquaintance, to keep such valuable property in an office safe,” he remarked.

Burgoyne rose from his chair. He picked up the necklace and looked at the imitation stones half-carelessly.

“Now that I think of things from the present standpoint,” he said, “I am afraid he was foolish. However, as there is nothing very valuable about the necklace now, I am going to ask you to lock it up in your safe, Mr. Levanter. Wrap it securely, and let us both affix our seals to the package--until it is wanted.”

“You are going to track down your thief?” asked the jeweller as he produced materials for complying with Burgoyne’s request.

“I am going to try,” answered Burgoyne. “Certainly, I am going to try. But until I give you permission, Mr. Levanter, not a word of this to a soul. I am going to see what a little quiet work will do.”

He walked slowly along Bond Street when he emerged from Mr. Levanter’s shop, and was so much engrossed with his own thoughts that he failed to see a great many people who would fain have caught the famous traveller’s eye. And at the corner of Piccadilly he got into a taxi-cab and bade the driver go to Norfolk Street. He lounged back in the cab, his hat pulled over his eyes, and thought. And by the time he had come to Abbotsbury House he had tabulated his ideas in rough but fairly comprehensive fashion.

1. He was sure that what he had handed to Barclay Leverton was a
necklace of real diamonds.

2. He found it impossible to believe that Leverton would cheat him.

3. It was equally impossible to believe that either Mr. Winch or Miss
Leverton would cheat him.

4. It would be ridiculous to even wonder if the substitution of the
imitation for the genuine could have been made while the bank had
possession of the necklace.

5. The crime must have been committed at or engineered from
Leverton’s office.

“And don’t I remember that they told me that Leverton had been ill and away from this office for some time before his death, and that the necklace was only removed on the very morning of his death?” he mused. “Ah, ah! I had need find out for myself what it is that goes on behind all the plate glass and polished mahogany! This may be a more tortuous and puzzling path than any I ever trod. However, here goes for the first footsteps. Let me see--I want Mr. John Carsdale. On business, of course--quite innocent business.”

Mr. Carsdale was in--as events proved, Mr. Carsdale was partaking of a cup of afternoon tea in Mrs. Walsingham’s room, with Mrs. Walsingham and Mr. Shrewsbury. Richard dragged Burgoyne in without ceremony; he had taken to doing as he liked at Carsdale’s, and Griffkin adored him because he was generous in the matter of half-crowns. And hearing Burgoyne’s voice through the half-open door, he darted out and ushered him in as if he himself were lord and master.

“But I came to see Mr. Carsdale on business,” said Burgoyne, accepting, nevertheless, a cup of the best China tea and a slice of cake at Mrs. Walsingham’s hands.

“That’s all right,” said Richard. “Carsdale isn’t a conventional man of business. He can do business over a tea-pot. And if its about the company you’re thinking of getting up, Burgoyne, I’ve already given him a hint of it--I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

Burgoyne glanced at Carsdale. Although his own doings in the world had been confined to his military duties and to his travels, he had cultivated whatever opportunities had ever been afforded him in respect to watching other men, and of deducing from their expression of lip or eye what their inner thought might be, and he now fancied that he detected on Carsdale’s face a certain suggestion of wariness. Therefore he himself assumed an air of almost careless indifference.

“I don’t know what our young friend there may have told you,” he said, addressing Carsdale. “Something very _couleur de rose_, no doubt. But the fact is, that all I wanted to ask you at present is--supposing I do decide to go in for forming a company to develop my ventures in South America--may I consult you in the initial stages? I know nothing of company promoting, and I understand you do.”

“Oh, with pleasure, with pleasure!” responded Carsdale. “Pray command me at any moment, Captain Burgoyne--I shall be only too pleased to give you the benefit of whatever experience I may have.”

“And he has more experience than any man in London!” declared Richard, confidently. “Put the matter in Carsdale’s hands, and you’ll be all right, Burgoyne.”

Burgoyne replied that he would certainly call on Mr. Carsdale when the matter was ripe, and would make an appointment with him. And presently he rose to go. Whereupon Richard said that he and Mrs. Walsingham were going up town in his motor, which was down below, and offered his friend a lift to anywhere in their direction. Burgoyne declined the lift, but went down to the street with them, and there took the opportunity of offering his congratulations to Mrs. Walsingham, upon whose hand he had already noticed the ring which Richard had bought that morning. Mrs. Walsingham received his polite sayings with becoming modesty; she seemed, however, at a loss for words wherewith to answer them, and her youthful cavalier cut in upon her confusion in his usual impetuous manner.

“I say, Burgoyne!” he exclaimed. “What about those diamonds of yours? If you’ll sell them, I’ll buy them. Will you?”

Burgoyne turned upon him slowly.

“Oh!” he said. “Those diamonds, Dick? No--I’ve decided not to sell them, after all. Not even to you.”

Richard manifested disappointment.

“Oh, well!” he said. “Of course, they are family heirlooms, aren’t they? By the by, what were they valued at?”

“You’re not a buyer, you know,” said Burgoyne, with a laugh. “Oh, well--I don’t mind telling you. My diamonds, Dick, are worth twelve thousand. But, as I said, I’m not going to sell them--just yet, anyway. So restrain your covetous soul.”

Then he raised his hat to Mrs. Walsingham, who had stepped into the car, and went off towards the Strand, once more engrossed in thought. And presently he muttered to himself a certain question, which had been repeating itself in his brain for the last hour: “Who was it opened that safe when Leverton was ill--who--who?”