The Sins of Severac Bablon Part 8

"The smaller, you say?" he called with affected cheeriness.

Sheard nodded. It was a crucial moment. Did the pot contain anything? If not, he had made a fool of himself. And if it did, in what way could its contents a.s.sist him in his campaign of extortion?

The artist, standing on tiptoe, reached into the urn--and produced a mahogany case, such as is used for packing silver ware.

"What's that?" rapped Jesson excitedly. "I know nothing of it!"

"You might open it, Crofter!" directed Sheard with enforced calm.

Crofter did so--and revealed, in a nest of black velvet, a small piece of exquisite pottery.

A pa.s.sage hitherto obscure in Severac Bablon's letter instantly explained itself in Sheard's mind. "I did not further weary you with a discourse upon Egyptology; moreover, _I had a matter of urgency to attend to_!"

Sir Leopold Jesson took one step forward, and then, with staring eyes, and face unusually pale, turned on the journalist.

"The Hamilton Vase! You villain!"

"Sir Leopold!" cried Sheard with sudden asperity, "be good enough to moderate your language! If you can offer any explanation of how this vase, stolen only last night from the national collection, comes to be concealed in your house, I shall be interested to hear it!"

Jesson looked at Crofter, who still held the case in his hands; the artist's face expressed nothing but blank amazement. He looked at Sheard, who met his eyes calmly.

"There is roguery here!" he said. "I don't know if there are two of you----"

"Sir Leopold Jesson!" cried Crofter angrily, "you have said more than enough! Your hobby has become a mania, sir! How you obtained possession of the vase I do not know, nor do I know how my friend has traced the theft to you; least of all how this scandal is to be hushed up. But have the decency to admit facts! There is no defence, absolutely!"

"What do you want?" said Jesson tersely. "This is a cunning trap--and I've fallen right into it!"

"You have!" said Crofter grimly. "I must congratulate my friend on a very smart piece of detective work!"

"What do you want?" repeated Jesson, moistening his dry lips.

His quick mind had been at work since the stolen vase was discovered in his possession, and although he knew himself the victim of an amazing plot, he also recognised that rebellion was out of the question. As Crofter had said, there was no defence.

"Suppose," suggested Sheard, "you authorise the announcement in the _Gleaner_ to which I have already referred? I, for my part, will undertake to return the vase to the proper authorities and to keep your name out of the matter entirely. Would you agree to keep silent, Crofter?"

"Can you manage what you propose?"

"I can!" answered Sheard, confidently.

"All right!" said Crofter slowly. "It's connivance, but in a good cause!"

"I shall make the cheque payable to the hospital!" said Jesson, significantly.

Sheard stared for a moment, then, as the insinuation came home to his mind: "How dare you!" he cried hotly. "Do you take us for thieves?"

"I hardly know what to take you for," replied the other. "Your proceedings are unique."

CHAPTER V

A MYSTIC HAND

"It amounts," said J. J. Oppner, the lord of Wall Street, "to a panic.

No man of money is safe. I ain't boilin' over with confidence in Scotland Yard, and I've got some Agency boys here in London with me."

"A panic, eh?" grunted Baron Hague, Teutonically. "So you vear this Bablon, eh?"

"A bit we do," drawled Oppner, "and then some. After that a whole lot, and we're well scared. He held me up at my Canadian mills for a pile; but I've got wise to him, and if he crowds me again he's a full-blown genius."

Mrs. Rohscheimer's dinner party murmured sympathetically.

"Of course you have heard, Baron," said the hostess, "that in his outrage here--here, in Park Lane!--he was a.s.sisted by no fewer than thirty accomplices?"

"Dirty aggomblices, eh? Dirty?"

"Dirty's the word!" growled Mr. Oppner.

"The wonder is," said Sir Richard Haredale, "that a rogue with so many a.s.sistants has not been betrayed."

To those present at the Rohscheimer board this subject, indeed, was one of quite extraordinary interest, in view of the fact that it was only a few days since the affair of the dramatic ball. Sixteen diners there were, and in order to appreciate the electric atmosphere which prevailed in the airy salon, let us survey the board. Reading from left to right, as in the case of society wedding groups, the diners were:

Mrs. Julius Rohscheimer.[1]

Baron Hague.[1]

Miss Zoe Oppner.[1]

Sir Richard Haredale.

Mrs. Maurice Hohsmann.[1]

Mr. J. J. Oppner.[1]

Mrs. Wellington Lacey.

Mr. Sheard (Press).

Miss Salome Hohsmann.[1]

Sir Leopold Jesson.[1]

Lady Vignoles.[1]

Mr. Julius Rohscheimer.[1]

Lady Mary Evershed.

Lord Vignoles.

Miss Charlotte Hohsmann.[1]

Mr. Antony Elschild.[1]

[Footnote 1: Representatives of capital.]

"I understand that the man holds private keys to the British Museum!"

cried Mrs. Hohsmann.

"n.o.body would be surprised to hear," came the thick voice of Julius Rohscheimer, "that he'd got a private subway between his bedroom and the Bank of England!"