Send for Paul Temple. Francis DurbridgeЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER I

       Conference at Scotland Yard

      ‘Superintendent Harvey and Inspector Dale, sir!’

      ‘All right, Sergeant, you can go. Let me have the map some time before noon.’

      Sir Graham Forbes, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, stood up to greet the new arrivals. He was a tall man with iron-grey hair and a sparse figure. Even the black coat and striped trousers, which gave him the appearance of a City stockbroker, could not conceal that his early career had been spent with the Army. He contrasted strangely with the two men who now came into his office at Scotland Yard.

      Dale was a man of medium height and build who always seemed unhappy and helpless without his bowler hat, and the umbrella which nobody ever remembered seeing unfurled.

      The superintendent was a full head taller. He was a man of mighty frame whose bronzed face might have made the casual stranger mistake him for the more successful type of farmer. But he possessed a fund of wisdom and mellow humour, coupled with an astuteness that he would reveal in some urbane remark, that few farmers possessed.

      Superintendent Harvey and Chief Inspector Dale had been placed in charge of the mysterious robberies, the size and scope of which had literally staggered the country. It was now their unpleasant task to give the Commissioner an account of yet another mysterious robbery which had occurred in Birmingham only a few hours before.

      ‘It’s the same gang, sir!’ Chief Inspector Dale was saying. He spoke quietly, but the calm, clear note of efficiency sounded in his voice. ‘There’s no question of it. £8,000 worth of diamonds.’

      The Commissioner looked worried. Monocle in hand, he strode backwards and forwards across the heavily carpeted room.

      ‘The night watchman is dead, sir!’ Superintendent Harvey added.

      ‘Dead?’ There was no mistaking the surprise in Sir Graham’s’ voice.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘The poor devil was chloroformed,’ Dale explained. ‘I don’t think they meant to kill him. According to the doctor, he was gassed during the War, and his lungs were pretty groggy.’

      The news had not put Sir Graham in the best of tempers. ‘This is bad, Dale!’ he said irritably. ‘Bad!’ he repeated with emphasis.

      ‘He was a new man,’ said Harvey. ‘He’d only been with Stirling’s a month or so.’

      ‘Did you check up on him?’

      ‘Yes. His name was Rogers. “Lefty” Rogers. He was working at Stirling’s under the name of Dixon.’

      The hint in the superintendent’s words, and the inflexion of his voice was not lost on the Commissioner.

      ‘Had he a record?’ he asked.

      ‘He’d a record all right! Everything from petty larceny to blackmail,’ Chief Inspector Dale informed him.

      The Commissioner grunted.

      ‘Inspector Merritt was already on the job when we arrived, sir,’ said Harvey.

      ‘Inspector Merritt? Oh, yes.’ The Commissioner paused. ‘Who discovered the robbery in the first place?’

      ‘One of the constables on night duty,’ answered Inspector Dale. ‘A man called Finley. He noticed the side door had been forced open. At least, that’s his story!’ he added, with a queer note in his voice.

      ‘You don’t believe him?’

      ‘No,’ Dale replied decisively. ‘I think he was in the habit of having a chat with Rogers, or Dixon—whichever you like to call him. In fact, he almost admitted as much. The night watchman used to make coffee, and I rather think P.C. Finley has—er—a liking for coffee.’

      The Commissioner appeared to think over the significance of what Dale had told him. ‘Do you think he knew Dixon was an ex-convict?’ he asked at last.

      Dale hesitated a fraction before he answered. ‘No. I don’t think so.’

      ‘This is the fourth robbery in two months, Dale!’ the Commissioner said impatiently, and took a cigarette from the small ivory box on his desk.

      ‘There wasn’t a mark on the safe,’ Inspector Dale said quietly. ‘If it hadn’t been for the other robberies, I’d have sworn this was an inside job.’

      ‘What did Merritt have to say?’ asked Forbes.

      Dale seemed amused. ‘He’s in a complete daze, poor devil. He’d got some fancy sort of theory about a huge criminal organization. I think Inspector Merritt has a rather theatrical imagination!’ he added, with a smile which had some slight measure of contempt behind it.

      ‘You don’t think we’re up against a criminal organization, then?’ the Commissioner asked.

      ‘Good heavens, no! Criminal organizations are all very well between the pages of a novel, sir, but when it comes to real life, well, they just don’t exist!’

      Sir Graham Forbes grunted. ‘Is that your opinion too, Harvey?’ he asked, turning to where Harvey was sitting on the other side of his desk.

      ‘To be perfectly honest, Sir Graham, I’m rather inclined to agree with Merritt.’ Dale looked at him with obvious surprise, but Harvey continued: ‘At first I thought we were up against the usual crowd who were having an uncanny run of good luck,’ he said, ‘but now I’m rather inclined to think otherwise. You see, in the first place, there are certain aspects of this business which, to my way of thinking, indicate the existence of a really super mind. A man with an unusual flair for criminal organization. I know it sounds fantastic, and all that, sir! I feel rather reluctant to believe it myself, but we must face the facts, and the facts are pretty grim!’

      He paused, but Sir Graham nodded, as a sign for him to continue.

      ‘First there was the case of Smithson’s of Gloucester. £17,000 worth of stuff. Then there was the Leicester business, £9,000 worth. Then there was the Derby affair, £4,000. And mark you, we had the Derby shop covered. We were, in fact, prepared for the raid. But that didn’t stop it from happening. Then, on top of everything else, there’s this affair in Birmingham, £8,000 worth of diamonds.

      ‘No, Sir Graham, if we were up against the usual crowd, Benny Lever, “Dopey” Crowman, “Spilly” Stetson, we’d have had ’em under lock and key ages ago. I firmly believe, Sir Graham, that we are up against one of the greatest criminal organizations in Europe!’

      Harvey had been carried away by his rising excitement as he recalled the details of the mysterious robberies. Sir Graham had been listening intently, making an occasional note on a pad on his desk. A slight smile of amusement on Dale’s face had given place to the utmost seriousness as Harvey continued with his dramatic recital.

      ‘Where was the night watchman when this fellow—er— Finley, discovered him?’ the Commissioner asked at last.

      ‘In