Detective and mystery stories, English; Private investigators -- Fiction
"Well, well, we all have our failings. But before we start, now,
observe." For a moment Dorrington was stern and menacing. "You wriggled
a little at first, but that was quite natural. Now you've given in;
and at the first sign of another wriggle I stop it once and for all.
Understand? No tricks, now."
They entered a hansom at the door. Hamer was moody and silent at first,
but under the influence of Dorrington's gay talk he opened out after
a while. "Well," he said, "you're far the cleverest of the three, no
doubt, and perhaps in that way you deserve to win. It's mighty smart
for you to come in like this, and push Bouvier on one side and me on
the other, and both of us helpless. But it's rough on me after having
all the trouble."
"Don't be a bad loser, man!" Dorrington answered. "You might have had a
deal more trouble and a deal more roughness too, I assure you."
"Oh yes, so I might. I'm not grumbling. But there's one thing has
puzzled me all along. Where did Bouvier get that stone from?"
"He inherited it. It's the most important of the family jewels, I
assure you."
"Oh, skittles! I might have known you wouldn't tell me, even if you
knew yourself. But I should like to know. What sort of a duffer must
it have been that let Bouvier do him for that big stone--Bouvier of
all men in the world? Why, he was a record flat himself--couldn't tell
a diamond from a glass marble, I should think. Why, he used to buy
peddling little trays of rotters in the Garden at twice their value!
And then he'd sell them for what he could get. I knew very well he
wasn't going on systematically dropping money like that for no reason
at all. He had some axe to grind, that was plain. And after a while he
got asking timid questions as to the sale of big diamonds, and how it
was done, and who bought them, and all that. That put me on it at once.
All this buying and selling at a loss was a blind. He wanted to get
into the trade to sell stolen diamonds, that was clear; and there was
some value in them too, else he couldn't afford to waste months of time
and lose money every day over it. So I kept my eye on him. I noticed,
when he put his overcoat on, and thought I wasn't looking, he would
settle a string of some sort round his neck, under his shirt-collar,
and feel to pack up something close under his armpit. Then I just
watched him home, and saw the sort of shanty he lived in. I mentioned
these things to Mrs. H., and she was naturally indignant at the idea of
a chap like Bouvier having something valuable in a dishonest way, and
agreed with me that if possible it ought to be got from him, if only
in the interests of virtue." Hamer laughed jerkily. "So at any rate we
determined to get a look at whatever it was hanging round his neck, and
we made the arrangements you know about. It seemed to me that Bouvier
was pretty sure to lose it before long, one way or another, if it had
any value at all, to judge by the way he was done in other matters.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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