But Gager at the present moment had achieved a triumph in the matter which he was not at all disposed to share with his elder officer. Perhaps, on the whole, more power is lost than gained by habits of secrecy. To be discreet is a fine thing—especially for a policeman; but when discretion is carried to such a length in the direction of self-confidence as to produce a belief that no aid is wanted for the achievement of great results, it will often militate against all achievement. Had Scotland Yard been less discreet and more confidential, the mystery might, perhaps, have been sooner unravelled. Gager at this very moment had reason to believe that a man whom he knew could—and would, if operated upon duly—communicate to him, Gager, the secret of the present whereabouts of Patience Crabstick! That belief was a great possession, and much too important, as Gager thought, to be shared lightly with such an one as Mr. Bunfit—a thickheaded sort of man, in Gager’s opinion, although, no doubt, he had by means of industry been successful in some difficult cases.
“ ’Is lordship ain’t stirred,” said Bunfit.
“How do you mean—stirred, Mr. Bunfit?”
“Ain’t moved nowheres out of London.”
“What should he move out of London for? What could he get by cutting? There ain’t nothing so bad when anything’s up against one as letting on that one wants to bolt. He knows all that. He’ll stand his ground. He won’t bolt.”
“I don’t suppose as he will, Gager. It’s a rum go; ain’t it?—the rummest as I ever see.” This remark had been made so often by Mr. Bunfit, that Gager had become almost weary of hearing it.
“Oh—rum; rum be b⸺ What’s the use of all that? From what the governor told me this morning, there isn’t a shadow of doubt where the diamonds are.”
“In Paris—of course,” said Bunfit.
“They never went to Paris. They were taken from here to Hamburg in a commercial man’s kit—a fellow as travels in knives and scissors. Then they was recut. They say the cutting was the quickest bit of work ever done by one man in Hamburg. And now they’re in New York. That’s what has come of the diamonds.”
“Benjamin, in course,” said Bunfit, in a low whisper, just taking the pipe from between his lips.
“Well;—yes. No doubt it was Benjamin. But how did Benjamin get ’em?”
“Lord George—in course,” said Bunfit.
“And how did he get ’em?”
“Well;—that’s where it is; isn’t it?” Then there was a pause, during which Bunfit continued to smoke. “As sure as your name’s Gager, he got ’em at Carlisle.”
“And what took Smiler down to Carlisle?”
“Just to put a face on it,” said Bunfit.
“And who cut the door?”
“Billy Cann did,” said Bunfit.
“And who forced the box?”
“Them two did,” said Bunfit.
“And all to put a face on it?”
“Yes;—just that. And an uncommon good face they did put on it between ’em;—the best as I ever see.”
“All right,” said Gager. “So far, so good. I don’t agree with you, Mr. Bunfit; because the thing, when it was done, wouldn’t be worth the money. Lord love you, what would all that have cost? And what was to prevent the lady and Lord George together taking the diamonds to Benjamin and getting their price? It never does to be too clever, Mr. Bunfit. And when that was all done, why did the lady go and get herself robbed again? No;—I don’t say but what you’re a clever man, in your way, Mr. Bunfit; but you’ve not got a hold of the thing here. Why was Smiler going about like a mad dog—only that he found himself took in?”
“Maybe he expected something else in the box—more than the necklace—as was to come to him,” suggested Bunfit.
“Gammon.”
“I don’t see why you say gammon, Gager. It ain’t polite.”
“It is gammon—running away with ideas like them, just as if you was one of the public. When they two opened that box at Carlisle, which they did as certain as you sit there, they believed as the diamonds were there. They were not there.”
“I don’t think as they was,” said Bunfit.
“Very well;—where were they? Just walk up to it, Mr. Bunfit, making your ground good as you go. They two men cut the door, and took the box, and opened it—and when they’d opened it, they didn’t get the swag. Where was the swag?”
“Lord George,” said Bunfit again.
“Very well—Lord George. Like enough. But it comes to this. Benjamin, and they two men of his, had laid themselves out for the robbery. Now, Mr. Bunfit, whether Lord George and Benjamin were together in that first affair, or whether they weren’t, I can’t see my way just at present, and I don’t know as you can see yours;—not saying but what you’re as quick as most men, Mr. Bunfit. If he was—and I rayther think that’s about it—then he and Benjamin must have had a few words, and he must have got the jewels from the lady over night.”
“Of course he did—and Smiler and Billy Cann knew as they weren’t there.”
“There you are, all back again, Mr. Bunfit, not making your ground good as you go. Smiler and Cann did their job according to order—and precious sore
