“Take a chair, Mr. Van Hoeren,” said Mr. Pawle genially. “You want to tell me something about this Ashton case? Very much obliged to you, I’m sure. These gentlemen are both interested—considerably—in that case, and if you can give me any information that will throw any light on it—”
Mr. Van Hoeren deposited his plump figure in a convenient chair and looked round the circle of faces.
“One thing there is I don’t see in them newspapers, Mr. Pawle,” he said in strongly nasal accents. “Maybe nobody don’t know nothings about it, what? So I come to tell you what I know, see? Something!”
“Very good of you, I’m sure,” replied Mr. Pawle. “What may it be?”
Mr. Van Hoeren made a significant grimace; it seemed to imply that there was a great deal to be told.
“Some of us, my way, we know Mr. Ashton,” he said. “In Hatton Garden, you understand. Dealers in diamonds, see? Me, and Haas, and Aarons, and one or two more. Business!”
“You’ve done business with Mr. Ashton?” asked the old lawyer. “Just so!”
“No—done nothing,” replied Mr. Van Hoeren. “Not a shilling’s worth. But we know him. He came down there. And we don’t see nothing in them papers that we expected to see, and today two or three of us, we lunch together, and Haas, he says: ‘Them lawyer men,’ he says, ‘they want information. You go and give it to ’em.’ So!”
“Well—what is it?” demanded Mr. Pawle.
Mr. Van Hoeren leaned forward and looked from one face to another.
“Ashton,” he said, “was carrying a big diamond about—in his pocketbook!”
Mr. Armitstead let a slight exclamation escape his lips. Viner glanced at Mr. Pawle. And Mr. Pawle fastened his eyes on his latest caller.
“Mr. Ashton was carrying a big diamond about in his pocketbook?” he said. “Ah—have you seen it?”
“Several times I see it,” replied Mr. Van Hoeren. “My trade, don’t it? Others of us—we see it too.”
“He wanted to sell it?” suggested Mr. Pawle.
“There ain’t so many people could afford to buy it,” said Mr. Van Hoeren.
“Why!” exclaimed Mr. Pawle. “Was it so valuable, then?”
The diamond merchant shrugged his shoulders and waved the gold-mounted umbrella which he was carefully nursing in his tightly-gloved hands.
“Oh, well!” he answered. “Fifty or sixty thousand pounds it was worth—yes!”
XII
The Grey Mare Inn
The three men who heard this announcement were conscious that at this point the Ashton case entered upon an entirely new phase. Armitstead’s mind was swept clean away from the episode in Paris, Viner’s from the revelations at Marketstoke, Mr. Pawle suddenly realized that here, at last, was something material and tangible which opened out all sorts of possibilities. And he voiced the thoughts of his two companions as he turned in amazement on the fat little man who sat complacently nursing his umbrella.
“What!” he exclaimed. “You mean to tell me that Ashton was walking about London with a diamond worth fifty thousand pounds in his pocket? Incredible!”
“Don’t see nothing so very incredible about it,” retorted Mr. Van Hoeren. “I could show you men what carries diamonds worth twice that much in their pockets about the Garden.”
“That’s business,” said Mr. Pawle. “I’ve heard of such things—but you all know each other over there, I’m told. Ashton wasn’t a diamond merchant. God bless me—he was probably murdered for that stone!”
“That’s just what I come to you about, eh?” suggested Mr. Van Hoeren. “You see ’tain’t nothing if he show that diamond to me, and such as me; we don’t think nothing of that—all in our way of business. But if he gets showing it to other people, in public places—what?”
“Just so!” asserted Mr. Pawle. “Sheer tempting of Providence! I’m amazed! But—how did you get to know Mr. Ashton and to hear of this diamond? Did he come to you?”
“Called on me at my office,” answered Mr. Van Hoeren laconically. “Pulled out the diamond and asked me what I thought it was worth. Well, I introduce him to some of the other boys in the Garden, see? He show them the diamond too. We reckon it’s worth what I say—fifty to sixty thousand. So!”
“Did he want to sell it?” demanded Mr. Pawle.
“Oh, well, yes—he wouldn’t have minded,” replied the diamond merchant. “Wasn’t particular about it, you know—rich man.”
“Did he tell you anything about it—how he got it, and so on?” asked Mr. Pawle. “Was there any history attached to it?”
“Oh, nothing much,” answered Mr. Van Hoeren. “He told me he’d had it some years—got it in Australia, where he come from to London. Got it cheap, he did—lots of things like that in our business.”
“And carried it in his pocket!” exclaimed Mr. Pawle. He stared hard at Mr. Van Hoeren, as if his mind was revolving some unpleasant idea. “I suppose all the people you introduced him to are—all right?” he asked.
“Oh, they’re all right!” affirmed Mr. Van Hoeren, with a laugh. “Give my word for any of ’em, eh? But Ashton—if he pulls that diamond out to show to anybody—out of the trade, you understand—well, then, there’s lots of fellows in this town would settle him to get hold of it—what?”
“I think you’re right,” said Mr. Pawle. He glanced at Viner. “This puts a new complexion on affairs,” he remarked. “We shall have to let the police know of this. I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Van Hoeren. You won’t mind giving evidence about this if it’s necessary?”
“Don’t mind nothing,” said Mr. Van Hoeren. “Me and the other boys, we think you ought to know about that diamond, see?”
He went away, and Mr. Pawle turned to Viner and Armitstead.
“I shouldn’t wonder if we’re getting at something like a real clue,” he said. “It seems evident that Ashton
