The Mystery of the Moor

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 437, 20 August 1928, Page 5

The Mystery of the Moor

By ,

J. S. Fletcher

CHAPTER XV.—THE NEWLY RICH. "I have read a great deal In the newspapers about this affair,” he said at last. “The various accounts, sent, I presume, by local reporters; also I read, more carefully, the report of the inquest. Of course, I saw your name mentioned, Mr. Crole —and Mr. Holt’s. And I came along to see you, Mr. Crole, because I am almost sure that not very long ago, under rather unusual circumstances, I met Mr. Mazaroff.” “Good!” exclaimed Crole. “But—you either did or you didn’t. Why ‘almost’ ?” "Because,” answered Frobeius, “the man whom I met was not introduced to me by any name. I just met him. However, he was a notable man—and the description of Mazaroff in the papers corresponds with my recollections. But I will give you the facts. You, Mr. Crole, are well aware of what my business is, and of my connections in the West End. Well, during the past twelve months or so I have had business dealings with a Sir Samuel and Lady Leeke. Sir Samuel ia a self-made man; to be plain, he made a vast fortune as a contractor during the recent war; he is, I gather, a multi-millionaire. About a year ago he bought Lord Mulworthy’s house in Park Lane; he has also, I am told, a very fine place in Buckinghamshire. He and Lady Leeke—chiefly her ladyship—have had extensive dealings with me in jewellery and plate. You will understand,” he added, with a Quiet and knowing smile, “that it was ~' er * necessary to lit themselves out with things which they didn’t possess in the old days. Lady Leeke. for example, has bought a good many jewels from me, and, I venture to mink, has formed a high opinion of m.v taste and experience.” Speaks well for her taste, Frooeius!” interjected Crole, politely. Well,” continued the jeweller, with a sm ile, “to come to the important hurt of my story. About a month or ,’ e weeks ago I was called to the elephoue one afternoon, and found *ir Samuel Leeke speaking to me. He anted me to go round to Park Lane at r ® anc * then, to look at and estimate the value of a diamond that had eea offered to him. I told him I °uld be with him in a few minutes, “Ud so I was, with the help of a taxi- “• I found Sir Samuel and Lady Witt 6 ln their Horary* They had an em a stranger whose appearas I recollect it. corresponds in ta 6 description of Mazaroff given the newspapers—1 particularly reember the cast in the left eye. He s., as n °t introduced to me by name—of ,? a m ue l an d Lady Leeke, in spite • e ' r wealth, are not exactly acw tttei * with—you know. It appeared, eve r. that the stranger was one Ln° Was lnter ested in diamonds in a way, had heard of Sir Samuel u lus wife as possible buyers, and us willing to sell them something of ~y special value; to wit, a remark-

able pair of blue diamonds, of which he had one in his pocket. It was this that I was asked to see. He produced it.” “A blue diamond?” asked May thorne, always particular as to exact facts. “A blue diamond—and an unusually fine stone,” asserted Frobeius. “Its proprietor told me that it was one of a pair—the other was equally fine. He further said that he had been in the diamond trade for some years, in South Africa, had now retired, and this would be his last deal. He and I talked —professionally—for a while. Our conversation, I could see, excited Sir Samuel and Lady Leeke to a desire to possess what was evidently something well worth having. And what they—the Leekes—wanted to get at was—what were the two diamonds worth? The would-be vendor and myself had a good deal of talk about the matter. He was very fair and reasonable, and he and I eventually came to a decision as to a proper price for the pair.” “And what might that be?” asked Crole, eagerly. “Well,” answered Frobeius, “we agreed that a fair price would be a hundred and sixty thousand pounds.” Although the jeweller mentioned this vast sum of money as casually as a greengrocer might mention the current market price of gooseberries, the rest of us were not quite so phlegmatic, and Crole let out an exclamation of astonishment. “One hundred and thousand pounds for a couple of diamonds!” he said. “Whew! That’s a bit exceptional. isn’t it?” “You have to bear in mind that the diamonds are exceptional,” answered Frobeius, with the quiet smile of superior knowledge. “Of course, I only saw one. But the would-be vendor assured me that the other was equally fine, if not finer. Now, you don’t get such a pair on the market every day, nor every year—perhaps not once in a generation. The sum we agreed upon was a reasonable price—not an extravagant one.” “You’d have given it yourself?” asked May thorne, sharply. “Well,” replied the jeweller, “I’d have given ten thousand less.”

“Without much doubt about making a nice profit, eh?” suggested Crole. “I should have made a profit,” admitted Frobeius. “However, the diamonds were not offered to me. I was merely a valuer.”

“And what happened?” asked Maythorne. “Was the deal carried out?”

“That I do not know,” replied Frobeius. “I perceived that after having agreed with the seller as to what would be a fair price, my part was played, and I left seller and buyer talking the matter over. My impression was that Sir Samuel would probably buy.” “You’ve heard nothing since?” inquired Crole. “Nothing. I haven’t seen Sir Samuel Leeke, nor Lady Leeke, since that afternoon,” said the jeweller. “And of course I haven’t seen the blue diamond man. But I feel sure that be was the man who is referred to in the newspapers as Mazaroff.” “I don’t think there’s much doubt about that,” assented Crole.

“Well, now, we’d better get In touch with these Leeke people,” he continued, glancing at me and Maythorne. “What sort of folk are they?” he asked, turning to our informant. Frobeius smiled and gave us a confidential look.

“Oh, well,” he said, “they’re of a class which didn’t exist, at any rate noticeably, before the war. Newlyrich! The man was, so I have been told, a grocer or provision merchant somewhere In the north, who made an Immense fortune out of contracting during the early years of the war, and at the same time did a lot of local work in furthering recruiting. So he got one of the titles that have been dealt out so lavishly, and blossomed into Sir Samuel. Goodnatured, friendly, simple people, ivho have got more money than they know what to do with. That’s about it.” “We must see them,” said Crole. “Park Lane, you said?” Mr. Frobeius gave us the exact address of Sir Samuel Leeke, and left us. Crole and I, as if by common impulse, looked at our companion. “Well,” said Crole, “what’s Maythorne asking himself?” Maythorne looked up from a pattern which he was mechanically tracing on the tablecloth. “Only one thing to ask—at present,” he said. “Did Mazaroff sell those diamonds to Sir Samuel Leeke?” “That’s what we want to rind out,” observed Crole. “A plain question. And ” Maythorne interrupted him with a significant glance. “Aye,” he said, “and easily answered, as no doubt it will be. But, if he didn’t ” “Well?” demanded Crole. Maythorne got up with a gesture that suggested action. “Then, in that case, Armintrade’3 got them—in my opinion,” he said. “And the job will be to prove that lie has! A quiet man, Armintrade, evidently—secret as they make ’em. And where have we got the slightest clue to what we want to establish—that he and Mazaroff met on that first day after Mazaroff and Holt arrived at the Woodcock?” “There must be somebody about there who knows what Armintrade’s movements were on that day,” I suggested. “He is Courthope’s guest.

Courthope would know. And the doctor chap, Eccleshare. They would all he about together, shooting. Those two must know where Armintrade was.”

“How are you going to get them to speak, if Armintrade’s a pal of theirs?" asked Maythorne. “From what I saw and heard of them at the Woodcock, they are both men who’ll keep their knowledge to themselves. But we’re getting at something here, and it all points to Armintrade. Now let’s see this Sir Samuel man and get a step further.” We chartered a taxicab outside in Holborn, and were driven to Park Lane, where we pulled up in front

of an imposing mansion, at the door of which we were encountered by footmen whose liveries were rather more gorgeous than the usual run of things in that way. In fact, everything that we met was of the rather more, rather overdone order and suggested that in their painful anxiety to hit the precise mark Shr Samuel and Lady Leeke had consistently overshot it. The room into which we were ushered after we had sent in our cards looked as if some very high-class upholsterer had been given carte blanche to wreak his own will and fancy on it; also, it looked as if the furnishings had never been touched or used since the uphol-

sterer’s men harl placed them in position. The whole apartment resembled one of those models you see at furniture exhibitions, and was plainly intended for show rather than for use. Mr. Crole muttered sarcastically that the chairs were much too grand to sit upon, and we all remained standing, staring at gold clocks, priceless china, and apparently very expensive pictures until a little apple-cheeked, rotund man, who wore mutton-chop whiskers and a ready smile, came bustling in, a big half-smoked cigar in one podgy hand, and our cards in the other. “X know what you ch :ps have come for!” he exclaimed, beaming from one to the other of us. “This Mazaroff affair!—l’ve read it all in the papers, and your names, too, same as what I see on your cards—just so! Now, then, which is which? Mr. Crole? just so! Mr. Holt?—just so! Mr. Maythorne?—to be sure.' Now, then, we know who we are—and what’s it all about, gentlemen?” “We have the honour of seeing Sir Samuel Leeke?” inquired Crole, with great politeness. “You have, sir!—that’s me, Sir Samuel Leeke, R.8.E., in the flesh,” agreed our host, good-humouredly. “And none the worse, I hope, for a bit of a handle to my name. But this Mazaroff affair, no—egad, it’s a queer business, I think —what?” “You’re aware of it, then, Sir Samuel?” suggested Crole. “Well up in things as far as they’ve gone” “Who isn’t?” exclaimed Sir Samuel. "Been plenty in the papers, anyway. Of course me and her ladyship’s read ail we could set our eyes to. It was only this morning she says to me, ‘Sam!’ she says, ‘as sure as fate somebody’ll be coming to us about this here affair!’ And—there you are! But I’ll tell you what—come this way, gentlemen, and then her ladyship can hear all you’ve got to say—women, you know, is curious, and news is better at first hand than at second —this way!” We followed Sir Samuel out of the cold grandeurs of our first haven into the less formal and more comfortable harbour of another and smaller room, where we found Lady Leeke, in a deep chair by a big fire, toying with a piece of fancy work. She was as rotund as her husband; her dress was of the latest fashion, and she had many rings on her fingers, and it struck me that she was somewhat sharper of intellect than Sir Samuel, not quite so open, and infinitely more watchful. She sized us all up as we were formally presented to her, and she marshalled us all into chairs facing her own, so that while the light fell on our faces it left hers in shade. “Of course I knew we should have inquiries made here,” she observed in a slightly affected tone. “I said so, this morning, to Sir Samuel.” “As I’ve just told ’em,” said Sir Samuel, who, hospitably bent, was handing his cigar case round among us. “Though to be sure, I’ve no idea as yet as to how they got here. Nobody knows about our transactions with Mazaroff outside ourselves—so far as I know. Of course, Mazaroff may have talked. But now—how did you come to hear of us?” “My dear Sir Samuel,” replied Crole, solemnly, ‘there are mysteries within mysteries! A man of your

position and your knowledge of tile world will understand me when I say that this is a big thing. You’ve already read a good deal about it—now, to be brief, what can you tell us?” Sir Samuel settled himself in a chair adjacent to his wife’s, and rubbed his hands on the knees of his trousers. It seemed to me that he was one of those men who highly enjoy telling a story. “Well, I don’t know that there’s anything to keep back,” he said, with a glance at Lady Leeke. “Not that there’s such a great deal to tell, either. This Mr. Mazaroff called here one day —just as you’ve done—and introduced himself as a man that had had big dealings in diamonds and the like in South Africa. He’d heard, so he told us, of Lady Leeke as a likely purchaser of something exceptional in diamonds, and he’d thought she’d like to see a particularly fine bit of prop erty that he’d got in that line o’ goods. Then he told me it was a pair of very fine and rare blue diamonds, and ha produced one.” “Only one?” inquired Maythorne. “Only one. The other,” continued Sir Samuel, “he said was in the pos session of his agent, a Mr. Arm intrade, of Courthope’s Bank, who was just then away holiday-making, shoot ing, in fact, 'with Mr. Courthope, in Northumberland. He said he should be seeing Mr. Armintrade very soon, as he was going motoring that way, and he would get the fellow diamond from him ” “Unless!” interrupted Lady Leeke.

“There was an unless about it.” “So there was,” admitted Sir Samuel. “Yes—unless Armintrade had got a definite offer from some other customer —Armintrade, he said, had had the first blue diamond in his possession for some months and might have found an advantageous customer for the pair.” “Then you didn’t buy ” asked Maythorne. “No —we didn’t buy,” replied Sir Samuel. “What we did was this —I telephoned our regular jeweller, Frobeius, and got him to come here and examine the diamond that Mazaroff had with him. They talked—professional jargon, of course—and they agreed that a reasonable price for such a pair of blue diamonds would be a hundred and sixty thousand pounds. After Fr& beius had gone. Mazaroff and I came to this arrangement—if his agent, Armintrade, hadn’t got a better offer, or made some arrangement to which they were committed. Mazaroff was to get the second blue diamond from Ar mintrade, and, on his return to Lon don, show me and her ladyship the pair. If we then decided to buy, we were to have the pair at the price I’ve just mentioned to you. “And, of course,” concluded Sir Samuel, with a comprehensive glance from one to the other of us, “of course, that’s where it ended. We’ve never seen the diamonds since.” “Did you ever see Mazaroff after that first call?” asked Maythorne. “Oh, yes. we did!” answered Sir Samuel, readily enough. “He was a very friendly, sociable, pleasant sort of man, and we asked him to come and i dine with us. He came—would it be

the next night. Maria?” "The next but one,” replied Lady Leeke. “Came here, and dined with you,” said Maythorne. “Had you any other guests. Sir Samuel?” “No, we hadn’t, that night.” replied Sir Samuel, leastways, there was her ladyship’s nephew, young Jim Mallison—but we don’t reckon him a guest. Nobody else.” "Any more talk about the diamonds?” suggested Maythorne. “There was some talk —yes,” said Sir Samuel. “Nothing much. He showed it to us again—had it in hi 3 pocket, you know. But the talk that time was more in a friendly way, like —not business.” “Was that the only time you saw Mazaroff? —except the first one?” asked Maythorne. “No, there was another," said Sir Samuel. "As we’d asked him to dine with us, he asked us to dine with him. We did —at his hotel, the Cecil. A night or two after—a rare good host, he was, too!" “Just you and Lady Leeke, I suppose?” suggested Maythorne. “Nay, there was Jim Mallison, as well,” replied Sir Samuel. “He asked the three of us, and a very pleasant evening we had.” (To be Continued.)