Chapter Twenty Five. Some Ugly Truths.

Poor Leucha was beside herself with grief, for she, alas! knew too well the many serious charges upon which her father and her lover were wanted. Both would receive long terms of penal servitude. Against them stood a very ugly list of previous convictions, and for jewel robbery, judges were never lenient.

Claire was in deadly fear that Roddy’s daughter might also be arrested for the part she had played in the various affairs, but it appeared that the information received by the police did not extend to “the Ladybird.”

The blow was complete. It had fallen and crushed them all.

That night Leucha lay awake, reflecting upon all that might be brought against the pair—the Forbes affair, when the fine pearls of Mrs Stockton-Forbes, the wife of the American railroad king, were stolen from the house in Park Lane; the matter of the Countess of Henham’s diamonds; the theft of Lady Maitland’s emeralds, and a dozen other clever jewel robberies that had from time to time startled readers of the newspapers.

Claire, on her part, also lay wondering—wondering how best to act in order to extricate the man who had so gallantly risked his life to save hers, and the easy-going old thief who had showed her such great kindness and consideration. Could she extricate them? No; she saw it was quite impossible. The English police and judges could not be bribed, as she had heard they could be in some countries. The outlook was hopeless—utterly and absolutely hopeless. Somebody had betrayed them. Both men had declared so, after their arrest. They had either been recognised and watched, or else some enemy had pointed them out to the police. In either case it was the same. A long term of imprisonment awaited both of them.

Though they were thieves, and as such culpable, yet she felt that she had now lost her only friends.

Next morning, rising early, she sent Leucha to the police station to inquire when they would be brought before the magistrate. To her surprise, however, “the Ladybird” brought back the reply that they had been taken up to London by the six o’clock train that morning, in order to be charged in the Extradition Court at Bow Street—the Court reserved for prisoners whose extradition was demanded by foreign Governments.

Post-haste, leaving little Ignatia in charge of the landlady and the parlour-maid, Madame Bernard and Leucha took the express to London, and were present in the grim, sombre police court when the chief magistrate, a pleasant-faced, white-headed old gentleman, took his seat, and the two prisoners were placed in the dock.

Guy’s dark eyes met Claire’s, and he started, turning his face away with shame at his position. She was a royal sovereign, and he, after all, only a thief. He had been unworthy her regard. Roddy saw her also, but made no sign. He feared lest his daughter might be recognised as the ingenious woman who had so cleverly acted as their spy and accomplice, and was annoyed that she should have risked coming there.

The men were formally charged—Redmayne with being concerned with two other men, not in custody, in stealing a quantity of jewellery, the property of the Baroness Ackermann, at Uhlenhorst, outside Hamburg.

The charge against Guy Bourne was “that he did, on June 16th, 1903, steal certain jewellery belonging to one Joseph Hirsch of Eugendorf.”

In dry, hard tones Mr Gore-Palmer, barrister, who appeared on behalf of the German Embassy, opened the case.

“Your Worship,” counsel said, “I do not propose to go into great length with the present case to-day. I appear on behalf of the German Imperial Embassy in London to apply for the extradition of these men, Redmayne and Bourne, for extensive thefts of jewels within the German Empire. The police will furnish evidence to you that they are members of a well-known, daring, and highly ingenious international gang, who operate mainly at the large railway stations on the Continent, and have, it is believed, various accomplices, who take places as domestic servants in the houses of persons known to be in possession of valuable jewellery. For the last two years active search has been made for them; but they have always succeeded in eluding the vigilance of the police until last night, when they were apprehended at Worthing, and brought to this Court. The first case, that against Redmayne, is that one of the gang, a woman unknown, entered the service of the Baroness Ackermann in London, and after a few weeks accompanied her to Hamburg, where, on discovering where this lady kept her jewels, she made an excuse that her mother was dying, and returned to England. Eight months afterwards, however, the prisoner Redmayne, alias Ward, alias Scott-Martin, made a daring entry into the house while the family were at dinner, opened the safe, and escaped with the whole of its precious contents, some of which were afterwards disposed of in Leyden and in Amsterdam. The charge against Bourne is that, on the date named, he was at the Cologne railway station, awaiting the express from Berlin, and on its arrival snatched the dressing-case from the Countess de Wallwitz’s footman and made off with it. The servant saw the man, and at the police-office afterwards identified a photograph which had been supplied to the German police from Scotland Yard as that of a dangerous criminal. Against both men are a number of charges for robbery in various parts of France and Germany, one against Bourne being the daring theft, three years ago, of a very valuable ruby pendant from the shop of a jeweller named Hirsch, in the town of Eugendorf, in the Kingdom of Marburg. This latter offence, as your Worship will see, has been added to the charge against Bourne, and the Imperial German Government rely upon your Worship granting the extradition sought for under the Acts of 1870 and 1873, and the Treaty of 1876.” Mention of the town of Eugendorf caused Claire to start quickly. He had actually been guilty of theft in her own Kingdom! For that reason, then, he had escaped from Treysa the instant he was well enough to leave the hospital.

“I have here,” continued counsel, “a quantity of evidence taken on commission before British Consuls in Germany, which I will put in, and I propose also to call a servant of the Baroness Ackermann and the jeweller Hirsch, both of whom are now in the precincts of the Court. I may add that the Imperial German Government have, through their Ambassador, made diplomatic representations to the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, as they attach the greatest importance to this case. The men, if my instructions are correct, will be found to be the leaders of a very dangerous and daring gang, who operate mostly in Germany, and seek refuge here, in their own country. I therefore hope that your Worship, after reading the depositions and hearing the evidence, will make the order for them to be handed over to the German authorities to be dealt with.”

“I must have direct evidence,” remarked the magistrate. “Evidence on commission is not sufficient. They are both British subjects, remember.”

“I have direct evidence of identification against each prisoner,” counsel replied. “I take it that your Worship will be obliged to adjourn the case for seven days, as usual; and if further evidence is required from Germany, it will be forthcoming.”

“Very well,” said the magistrate, taking the mass of documents handed to him, and proceeding to hear the formal evidence of arrest, as given by the inspector and sergeant from New Scotland Yard.

Afterwards the interpreter of the Court was sworn, and following him a tall, clean-shaven, yellow-haired German entered the witness-box, and gave his name as Max Wolff, in the employ of the Baroness Ackermann, of Uhlenhorst, near Hamburg. The instant “the Ladybird” saw him she made an excuse to Claire, and rising, escaped from the Court. They had been in service together, and he might recognise her!

The man’s evidence, being translated into English, showed that suspicion fell upon an English maid the Baroness had engaged in London, and who, a few days after arriving in Hamburg, suddenly returned. Indeed, she had one day been seen examining the lock of the safe; and it was believed that she had taken an impression of the key, for when the robbery was committed, some months later, the safe was evidently opened by means of a duplicate key.

“And do you identify either of the prisoners?” inquired the magistrate.

“I identify the elder one. I came face to face with him coming down the principal staircase with a bag in his hand. I was about to give the alarm; but he drew a revolver, and threatened to blow out my brains if I uttered a word.”

The accused man’s face relaxed into a sickly smile.

“And you were silent?”

“For the moment, yes. Next second he was out into the road, and took to the open country. I am quite certain he is the man; I would know him among ten thousand.”

“And you have heard nothing of this English lady’s maid since?” asked the magistrate.

“No; she disappeared after, as we suppose, taking the impression of the key.”

The next witness was a short, stout, dark-faced man with a shiny bald head, evidently a Jew. He was Joseph Hirsch, jeweller, of the Sternstrasse, Eugendorf, and he described how, on a certain evening, the prisoner Bourne—whom he identified—had entered his shop. He took him to be a wealthy Englishman travelling for pleasure, and showed him some of his best goods, including a ruby pendant worth about fifty thousand marks. The prisoner examined it well, but saying that the light was not good, and that he preferred to return next morning and examine it in the daylight, he put it down and went out. A quarter of an hour later, however, he had discovered, to his utter dismay, that the pendant had been cleverly palmed, and in its place in the case was left a cheap ornament, almost a replica, but of brass and pieces of red glass. He at once took train to Treysa and informed the chief of police, who showed him a photograph of the prisoner—a copy of one circulated by Scotland Yard.

“And do you see in Court the man who stole the pendant?” asked the magistrate.

“Yes; he is there,” the Jew replied in German—“the younger of the two.”

“You have not recovered your property?”

“No, sir.”

The court was not crowded. The London public take little or no interest in the Extradition Court. The magistrate glanced across at the well-dressed lady in dark grey who sat alone upon one of the benches, and wondered who she might be. Afterwards one of the detectives informed him privately that she had been with the men at Worthing when they were arrested.

“I do not know, your Worship, if you require any further evidence,” exclaimed Mr Gore-Palmer, again rising. “Perhaps you will glance at the evidence taken on commission before the British Consul-General at Treysa, the British Consul in Hamburg, and the British Vice-Consul at Cologne. I venture to think that in face of the evidence of identification you have just heard, you will be convinced that the German Government have a just right to apply for the extradition of these two persons.”

He then resumed his seat, while the white-headed old gentleman on the bench carefully went through folio after folio of the signed and stamped documents, each with its certified English translation and green Consular stamps.

Presently, when about half-way through the documents, he removed his gold pince-nez, and looking across at counsel, asked,—

“Mr Gore-Palmer, I am not quite clear upon one point. For whom do you appear to prosecute—for the Imperial German Government, or for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of Marburg?”

“I appear for both, your Worship, but I am instructed by the latter.”

“By the Minister Stuhlmann himself, on behalf of the Government—not by Herr Hirsch?”

“Yes, your Worship, by the Minister himself, who is determined to crush out the continually increasing crimes committed by foreign criminals who enter the Kingdom in the guise of tourists, as in the case of the present prisoners.”

Claire, when counsel’s explanation fell upon her ears, sat upright, pale and rigid.

She recollected Steinbach’s warning, and in an instant the vile, dastardly plot of Hinckeldeym and his creatures became revealed to her.

They would condemn this man to whom she owed her life as a low-bred thief, and at the same time declare that he was her latest lover!

For her it was the end of all things—the very end!