The Poisoned Goblet

Chapter I.—The Warning-1

Chapter I.—The Warning“We may say what we will, Mr. Larose,” remarked the thin scholarly looking man in a rather regretful tone, “but evil in a jeweled setting is less repugnant to the human mind, than when met with in sordid surroundings, and crime among the well-to-do is more intriguing than breaches of the law among the lower classes.”

“That is quite true, Mr. Jones,” replied the smiling young man opposite to him. “Wrong doing amongst educated and refined people seems always to have more element of adventure behind it”—he smiled—“and certainly the smells of Mayfair are much to be preferred to those of Bethnal Green.”

The two were closeted one morning in the private room of Gilbert Larose, in Scotland Yard, and as usual the great investigator, Naughton Jones, was laying down the law with his accustomed gusto.

“But I am sorry to note from the reports in the Press, Mr. Larose,” he went on frowningly, “that your energies of late seem to have been almost entirely confined to the East End; to Shoreditch, Wapping, Limehouse and other unpleasant places.”

“Well, I have to go where I am sent,” laughed Larose, “and I can't pick and choose like you can, now can I?”

“No, no, of course you can't,” agreed Jones at once. A thought seemed to strike him suddenly, and he regarded the detective with cold and reproving eyes. “By-the-bye, although I saw you got the Limehouse murderer in the end, still I think you were hardly up to your usual form in that case.”

“No!” exclaimed Larose, rather surprised, “but I had him in the cells within four days!”

Jones raised one long forefinger solemnly. “But it would have saved you a lot of trouble if, when you had been brought to the scene of the crime, you had at once realised the significance of two things. The first—that according to the medical evidence, the knife with which he had stabbed the woman and cut her throat must have been of small size and as keen as a razor, and the second—that the two disreputable old boots he left behind him were odd ones and of differing sizes.” He shrugged his shoulders. “These two facts, taken together, immediately suggested to me, as you discovered later, that the murderer was a boot repairer by trade, for there was the sharp knife of a man whose occupation included the trimming of leather, and there were the odd boots that had been left behind with him upon his informing their owners that the fellows to them were beyond repair.” He regarded Larose with the frown of a schoolmaster reproving a pupil. “Where now, pray, would you be likely to find nearly worn-out odd boots of differing sizes—except among the discards in a boot repairer's shop? It is so very simple.”

The detective flushed slightly, “It certainly does seem so now,” he remarked slowly, “after you have pointed it out. Still—”

“Not that I have not always a great admiration for talents,” broke in Jones quickly, “or indeed I should not be here.” He smiled coldly. “I suppose that with my well-known aversion to any association with the regular police, except for the purely mechanical part of effecting the arrest when I have myself run the criminal to earth, you are wondering why I have come here at all.”

“Yes,” replied Larose, “for I know you are always busy and never given to wasting any time.”

“Exactly,” said Jones with a sigh, “and it is on that account that I am here now.” He passed his hand over his forehead, “I have been overdoing it and my medical adviser, Sir Bumble Brown, insists that I go into a nursing home for rest and treatment. I am a nervous wreck.”

“Oh! I am so sorry,” exclaimed Larose with great sympathy, “for you will be missed by such a lot of people.”

“Yes,” nodded Jones significantly, “and it is in the interest of one of them that I have come to you now.” He drew his chair up close to the detective and lowered his voice significantly. “I am in the middle of an important case and have to drop it, because, as I have told you, of my health, and as you are going to be sent in my place, I am wanting to put you wise to a few things so that you may commence your investigations under the most advantageous conditions possible.”

“I—going to be sent in your place!” exclaimed Larose, looking very surprised.

“Yes,” replied Jones. “I have arranged it.”

The detective laughed quietly. “Then you must have great influence, Mr. Jones, to be able to dictate to the Chief Commissioner what he is to do. I often find him hard to manage.”

“It is not I who really have the influence,” frowned Jones, “but a pretty society woman. It is she who has pulled the strings; but now listen, and I'll explain everything.”

He took a map and some papers from his pocket and laid them before him upon the desk.

“Now, of course, you have heard of Lady Helen Ardane,” he began, and when Larose shook his head, he snapped, “Well, you ought to have heard, for she is one of our best-known society hostesses.” He went on. “She is the widow of the late baronet, Sir Charles Ardane, the big whisky distiller, and lives at Carmel Abbey, in the north-west corner of Norfolk. She has one child, whom she idolises, a boy of four, the present baronet. She is an American by birth, and at the age of nineteen was married by her parents to the late Sir Charles, a man well over fifty. She is a very wealthy woman.”

“How old is she now?” asked Larose.

“About twenty-seven,” replied Jones, “and, like your Commissioner, difficult to manage, for she has been spoilt and pampered all her life, and has red hair.” He paused a minute here as if to collect his thoughts and then went on quickly. “Well, three weeks ago she received an anonymous letter, warning her that the child was going to be kidnapped, and bidding her look out.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Larose, smiling, “she herself an American and her child going to be kidnapped. Really, it would make her feel quite at home with us!”

“She took no notice of the letter,” continued Jones, ignoring the interruption, “for in the security of this country, she believed it to be only one of those cranky communications that people of means are always receiving, but a week after its receipt she got a terrible shock, for, but for an almost miraculous happening, her child would have undoubtedly been seized and taken away.”

“An attempt was actually made then?” asked Larose.

“No,” said Jones, “an attempt was not actually made, but it was within an ace of being made and carried to a successful issue, too. Not only that, but from what did happen, the very disquieting fact emerged that the would-be kidnappers were undoubtedly in possession of inside information as to what exactly were going to be the child's movements upon that particular day, and that therefore there was a confederate helping them, some where among the inmates of the Abbey.”

He went on. “Now what took place is this, and please listen carefully. On the Tuesday night Lady Ardane arranged with her head nurse, a woman, by-the-bye, of unimpeachable character that if the weather continued fine and mild the child should so on the morrow to play on the Brancaster sands, about three miles away. Her ladyship would be prevented from accompanying them on account of her social duties, but a little party was to be made up, consisting of the housekeeper, the two nurses and an elderly chauffeur, and they were to leave after an early lunch, in one of the Abbey cars. Well, the Wednesday turning out to be a beautiful day, everything was carried out as arranged, and by a quarter to two they had arrived by the sea shore and the car was parked upon the sands. Then the women and the child went in for a paddle, while the chauffeur, taking himself off about 250 yards, lay down among the short grass upon one of the sandhills and proceeded to amuse himself with a small telescope that he had brought with him. I must mention here that Brancaster Bay is a very lonely spot. There are no habitations anywhere near, and except when rifle practice is going on at the butts at the far end, there is hardly ever anyone to be seen there.”

“I've got a good idea where it is,” said Larose. “I motored round that coast last year, and it's about five miles from Hunstanton.”

Jones nodded. “Yes, just over five miles. Well, the chauffeur says he was almost dropping off to sleep, when a car, driven at a good pace, appeared upon the narrow road, and pulled up behind one of the sandhills, about a quarter of a mile from where he was lying. He saw four men then get out and was at once interested in them, because their actions were so peculiar. With bent backs and every appearance of not wishing to be seen, they crept up the sandhill nearest to them, and then lay down among the sand-grass just as he was doing. One of them then produced a pair of binoculars and it was evident at once that they were particularly interested in the little party from the Abbey, who were paddling on the sands. The chauffeur began to wonder what the deuce was up.”

Naughton Jones broke off here and asked the detective if there were any objection to his smoking. He smiled dryly as he took the cigarette that the detective at once offered him. “I know the red-tape in these places,” he remarked, “and I don't want to run counter to any of their absurd regulations.”

He went on. “Now let me see. Ah! I had got to the point when the chauffeur was watching those four men. Well, nothing happened for about a quarter of an hour. The men just watched the paddlers and he watched them. Then suddenly it became apparent to him that the man with the binoculars had all at once become very excited and was pointing out to the others something at sea. So he put up his little telescope and scanned the horizon too, and was at once rewarded by the sight of a small motor yacht cleaving swiftly through the waters and leaving behind it a broad wake of foam. Its progress shorewards was very rapid, and barely five minutes could have elapsed since it was first seen, so the chauffeur estimates, when it slowed down, turned sharply at right angles and dropped anchor, less than a hundred yards from the sands.

“The four men then immediately jumped up from where they had been lying and spreading themselves out as they ran, proceeded to race down the sandhills in the direction of the all unconscious little party from the Abbey.

“The chauffeur says that instantly then a feeling of dire consternation took possession of him, for as one who has lived the greater part of his life in America and is conversant with the customs of that great country, it came to him in a flash what was about to happen.

“The little baronet was going to be kidnapped.” Naughton Jones paused here and smiled at the expression of absorbed attention upon the detective's face.

“Looked pretty hopeless unless a miracle happened, didn't it?” he remarked. “At least six men, and probably all of them armed, against a defenseless elderly chauffeur!”

“Great Scott! it did look hopeless,” exclaimed Larose. “Hopeless to the world!”

Jones nodded. “But the miracle did happen.” he went on, “for just as the chauffeur was running down on to the sands to put up what resistance he could, the roar of motor engines was again heard among the sandhills, and two motor charabancs came tearing up, with their passengers, about fifty or sixty strapping young fellows, all carrying rifles. It appears it was the afternoon of the yearly match between the rifle clubs of Holt and Hunstanton, and they were going to shoot it off as usual at the butts on Brancaster Sands.

“The charabancs stopped and the riflemen sprang down. Then the chauffeur ran up to them, and waving his hand in the direction of the nurses and the four men shouted 'Load up, boys, and go to the rescue of those girls down there. Quick!'

“The young fellows thought it was a joke, but entering into the spirit of the fun, they snapped at their magazines and ran down on to the sands. The four men stopped and looked round in amazement, and the chauffeur swears he saw two of them produce pistols, but perceiving the crowd of armed youths swooping down upon them, after quick signs to one another, they turned upon their heels and sauntered back to their car. The two rowers in the boat, also taking in what was happening, pulled round and rowed back to the yacht.”