“You can’t trust them fellows anyway,” said Mr. Bunfit.
“Well;—what happens next? Lord George, he goes to Benjamin, but he isn’t goin’ to take the diamonds with him. He has had words with Benjamin or he has not. Anyways he isn’t goin’ to take the necklace with him on that morning. He hasn’t been goin’ to keep the diamonds about him, not since what was up at Carlisle. So he gives the diamonds back to the lady.”
“And she had ’em all along?”
“I don’t say it was so—but I can see my way upon that hypothesis.”
“There was something as she had to conceal, Gager. I’ve said that all through. I knew it in a moment when I see’d her faint.”
“She’s had a deal to conceal, I don’t doubt. Well, there they are—with her still—and the box is gone, and the people as is bringing the lawsuit, Mr. Camperdown and the rest of ’em, is off their tack. What’s she to do with ’em?”
“Take ’em to Benjamin,” said Bunfit, with confidence.
“That’s all very well, Mr. Bunfit. But there’s a quarrel up already with Benjamin. Benjamin was to have had ’em before. Benjamin has spent a goodish bit of money, and has been thrown over rather. I daresay Benjamin was as bad as Smiler, or worse. No doubt Benjamin let on to Smiler, and thought as Smiler was too many for him. I daresay there was a few words between him and Smiler. I wouldn’t wonder if Smiler didn’t threaten to punch Benjamin’s head—which well he could do it—and if there wasn’t a few playful remarks between ’em about penal servitude for life. You see, Mr. Bunfit, it couldn’t have been pleasant for any of ’em.”
“They’d’ve split,” said Bunfit.
“But they didn’t—not downright. Well—there we are. The diamonds is with the lady. Lord George has done it all. Lord George and Lady Eustace—they’re keeping company, no doubt, after their own fashion. He’s a-robbing of her, and she has to do pretty much as she’s bid. The diamonds is with the lady, and Lord George is pretty well afraid to look at ’em. After all that’s being done, there isn’t much to wonder at in that. Then comes the second robbery.”
“And Lord George planned that too?” asked Bunfit.
“I don’t pretend to say I know, but just put it this way, Mr. Bunfit. Of course the thieves were let in by the woman Crabstick.”
“Not a doubt.”
“Of course they was Smiler and Billy Cann.”
“I suppose they was.”
“She was always about the lady—a-doing for her in everything. Say she goes to Benjamin and tells him as how her lady still has the necklace—and then he puts up the second robbery. Then you’d have it all round.”
“And Lord George would have lost ’em. It can’t be. Lord George and he are thick as thieves up to this day.”
“Very well. I don’t say anything against that. Lord George knows as she has ’em;—indeed he’d given ’em back to her to keep. We’ve got as far as that, Mr. Bunfit.”
“I think she did ’ave ’em.”
“Very well. What does Lord George do then? He can’t make money of ’em. They’re too hot for his fingers, and so he finds when he thinks of taking ’em into the market. So he puts Benjamin up to the second robbery.”
“Who’s drawing it fine, now, Gager;—eh?”
“Mr. Bunfit, I’m not saying as I’ve got the truth beyond this—that Benjamin and his two men were clean done at Carlisle, that Lord George and his lady brought the jewels up to town between ’em, and that the party who didn’t get ’em at Carlisle tried their hand again and did get ’em in Hertford Street.” In all of which the ingenious Gager would have been right, if he could have kept his mind clear from the alluring conviction that a lord had been the chief of the thieves.
“We shall never make a case of it now,” said Bunfit despondently.
“I mean to try it on all the same. There’s Smiler about town as bold as brass, and dressed to the nines. He had the cheek to tell me he was going down to the Newmarket Spring to look after a horse he’s got a share in.”
“I was talking to Billy only yesterday,” added Bunfit. “I’ve got it on my mind that they didn’t treat Billy quite on the square. He didn’t let on anything about Benjamin; but he told me out plain, as how he was very much disgusted. ‘Mr. Bunfit,’ said he, ‘there’s that roguery about, that a plain man like me can’t touch it. There’s them as’d pick my eyes out while I was sleeping, and then swear it against my very self.’ Them were his words, and I knew as how Benjamin hadn’t been on the square with him.”
“You didn’t let on anything, Mr. Bunfit?”
“Well—I just reminded him as how there was five hundred pounds going a-begging from Mr. Camperdown.”
“And what did he say to that, Mr. Bunfit?”
“Well, he said a good deal. He’s a sharp little fellow, is Billy, as has read a deal. You’ve heard of ’Umpty Dumpty, Gager? ’Umpty Dumpty was a hegg.”
“All right.”
“As had a fall, and was smashed—and there’s a little poem about him.”
“I know.”
“Well;—Billy says to me: ‘Mr. Camperdown don’t want no hinformation; he wants the diamonds. Them diamonds is like ’Umpty Dumpty, Mr. Bunfit. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put ’Umpty Dumpty up again.’ ”
“Billy was about right there,” said the younger officer, rising from his seat.
Late on the afternoon of the same day, when London had already been given over to the gaslights, Mr. Gager, having dressed himself especially for the occasion of the friendly visit which he intended to make, sauntered into a small public-house at the corner of Meek Street and Pineapple Court, which locality—as all men well versed with
