THE COMPLETE BULLDOG DRUMMOND SERIES (10 Novels in One Edition). H. C. McNeile / Sapper
of importance it makes no odds."
"Did you look in the secret drawer at the back of the centre opening? You didn't know there was one, did you? Only I knew of its existence, and short of taking the desk to pieces no one would be able to find it. And you took the desk to pieces, Zadowa, didn't you? You blew it to pieces, Zadowa, didn't you? Just to kill the leader of this trumpery gang, Zadowa, you cursed fool!"
Step by step the hunchback was retreating before the other, terror convulsing his face, until the wall brought him to an abrupt stop.
"You blew the desk to pieces, Zadowa," continued the Reverend Theodosius, standing in front of him, "a desk that contained the six most perfect diamonds in the world, Zadowa. With your wretched bomb, you worm, you destroyed a fortune. What have you got to say?"
"I didn't know, monsieur," cringed the other. "How could I know? When were they put there?"
"I put them there this afternoon for safety. Not in my wildest imagination did I dream that you would start throwing bombs about the place."
"Perhaps they are not destroyed," stammered the hunchback hopefully.
"In which case they are now in the hands of the police. You have one chance, Zadowa, and only one. It is that those diamonds are in the hands of the police. If they are and you can get them—I will say no more."
"But if they have been destroyed, monsieur?" muttered the other.
"Then, Zadowa, I am afraid you will share their fate."
Almost indifferently the clergyman turned back into the room, taking no notice whatever of the wretched man who followed him on his knees begging for mercy. And then after a while the hunchback pulled himself together and stood up.
"It was a mistake, monsieur," he said quietly, "which I deeply regret. It was, however, you must admit, hardly my fault. I will do my best."
"Let us hope, then, for your sake, Zadowa, that your best will be successful. Now go."
He pointed to the door, and without another word the hunchback went.
"I'm glad you were here to-night, my dear," remarked the Reverend Theodosius. "I don't often lose my temper, but I very nearly killed that man this evening." The girl rose and came over to where he was standing.
"I don't understand, mon cheri," she said quietly. "What diamonds are these you talk about?"
The man gave a short, hard laugh.
"I didn't tell you," he answered. "There was no object in your knowing for a time. I know your weakness where jewels are concerned too well, my dear; I got them the night before last in Amsterdam. Do you remember that Russian—Stanovitch? That wasn't his real name. He was the eldest son of the Grand Duke Georgius, and he had just arrived from Russia."
"The man who took that overdose of his sleeping-draught?" whispered the girl barely above her breath.
The Reverend Theodosius smiled grimly.
"So they decided," he remarked. "He confided in me the night before he came to his sad end what he had been doing in Russia. His father had hidden the family heirlooms from the Bolshevists, and our young friend went over to retrieve them. Most ingenious—the way he got them out of Russia. Such a pity he had a lapse with his sleep dope."
And now the Reverend Theodosius was snarling like a mad dog.
"By heavens, girl—do you wonder that I nearly killed that fool Zadowa? The coup of a lifetime—safely brought off. Not a trace of suspicion on me—not a trace. I know I said I wasn't over here on side- shows, but I couldn't have been expected to let such a chance slip by. And then, after having got them safely into his country to lose them like that. Why, do you know that one of them was the rose diamond of the Russian Crown jewels?"
The girl's eyes glistened, then she shrugged her shoulders.
"They would have been unsaleable, mon ami," she said quietly.
"Don't you believe it," snapped the other. "There are markets for anything in the world, if one takes the trouble to look for them."
He was pacing up and down the room, and for a while she stood watching him in silence.
"I'm glad I didn't know about them till now," she said at length. "I might not have stopped you killing him, if I had. And it would have been rather awkward."
He gave a short laugh, and threw the end of his cigar into the grate.
"No good crying over spilt milk, my dear. Let's go to bed."
But little Janet still stood by the table watching him thoughtfully.
"What are you thinking about?"
"I was thinking about a rather peculiar coincidence," she answered quietly. "You were too worried over the diamonds to notice it—but it struck me instantly. The leader of this gang—this huge man whom Zadowa killed to-night. Did you notice what his Christian name was?"
The Reverend Theodosius shook his head.
"It was Hugh—Zadowa heard one of the others call him by name. Hugh, mon ami; Hugh—and a huge man. A coincidence, I think."
The man gave a short laugh. "A very long one, my dear. Too long to bother about."
"It would be a pity if he was dead," she went on thoughtfully. "I would have liked to see my Hugh Drummond again."
"If he has been killed, if your supposition is correct," returned the man, "it will do something towards reconciling me to the loss of the diamonds. But I don't think it's likely. And incidentally he is the only side-show I am going to allow myself during this trip."
Little Janet laughed softly.
"I wonder," she said, "I wonder. Let us, as you say, go to bed."
X. — IN WHICH HUGH DRUMMOND MAKES A DISCOVERY
The prospect in front of Count Zadowa alias Mr. Atkinson was not a very alluring one, and the more he thought about it the less he liked it. Either the diamonds were blown to dust, or they were in the hands of the authorities. In the first event he had the Reverend Theodosius to reckon with; in the second the police. And for preference the police won in a canter.
He was under no delusions was the hunchback. This mysterious man who signed all his communications by the enigmatic letter X, and whose real appearance was known probably only to the girl who was his constant companion, so wonderful and varied were his disguises, was not a person whom it paid to have any delusions about He paid magnificently, even lavishly, for work well done: for failure he took no excuse. Even long association did not mitigate the offence. With a shudder Count Zadowa remembered the fate of certain men he had known in the past, men who had been employed, even as he was now employed, on one of the innumerable schemes of their chief. No project, from the restoration of a monarchy to the downfall of a business combine, was too great for the man who now called himself the Reverend Theodosius Longmoor. All that mattered was that there should be money in it. Why he should be interesting himself in the spread of Communism in England it was not for Count Zadowa to inquire, even though he was the head of that particular activity. Presumably he was being paid for it by others; it was no business of Count Zadowa's.
And as he undressed that night in the quiet hotel in Bloomsbury where he lived the hunchback cursed bitterly under his breath. It was such a cruel stroke of luck. How much he had dreaded that first interview with his chief he had hardly admitted even to himself. And then had come the heaven-sent opportunity of killing the leader of the Black Gang in perfect safety; of making it appear that the three men inside the room, and who had no business to be inside the room, had blown themselves up by mistake. How was he to know about the diamonds: how could he possibly be expected to know? And once again he cursed, while the sweat glistened on his forehead as he realised his predicament.
He had already decided that