Four square Jane · OmniClassics

FOUR SQUARE JANE BY EDGAR WALLACE _Author of “Angel Esquire,” “The Melody of Death,” “The Thief in the Night,” “Elegant Edward,” etc._ CRIME SERIES THE READERS LIBRARY PUBLISHING COMPANY LTD. 66-66A, GREAT QUEEN STREET KINGSWAY, LONDON, W.C. 2 Copyright Edition (_All Rights Reserved_) EDITOR’S NOTE The Readers Library has recently published a large number of the best “crook” stories of the day. Amongst famous mystery story writers whose books have been included in the Library are Edgar Wallace, Sydney Horler, Mrs. Belloc Lowndes, Thea von Harbou, Earl Derr Biggers, and many others. Moreover, there is scarcely a first-class thriller produced on the films but an excellent novelised version of it appears in the Readers Library. Experience has shown that there are scores of thousands of readers who cannot be supplied with too much of this ingenious and absorbing type of fiction. The Readers Library intends to go on selecting as many as possible of the best of these stories, and with the present volume starts a policy of producing them in a series of their own, with a specially designed paper wrapper by which they can be distinguished. “Crook” story devotees will thus be able to recognize good “crook” stories at sight. The Crime Series will contain nothing that is second-class. It makes an auspicious start with an entirely new book by Mr. Edgar Wallace--“Four Square Jane.” No publisher who has recently had the fortune to produce an Edgar Wallace book can doubt that at the present time Mr. Wallace is easily the best seller in the world. The sales of the Readers Library volumes probably surpass those of any other books on earth. And amongst Readers Library books the four Edgar Wallace volumes which we have already published multiply their sales most phenomenally and quickly. It is a pleasure, therefore, to follow them with yet another of the celebrated writer’s stories, which has never appeared in volume form before, and which cannot be procured in any other edition. It can be said sincerely that “Four Square Jane” is amongst his best stories. It is concerned with a most ladylike crook. She is an uncannily clever criminal, all her female cunning being concentrated on her nefarious work. She makes the mere male detectives and policemen who endeavour to be on her tracks look foolish; and she and Mr. Edgar Wallace between them will successfully baffle readers of both sexes as to her identity. Mr. Wallace is most happy in his knack of getting his readers interested within the first two or three pages of a story in the particular character whom he does not intend to reveal to them until the close of the story. He is especially successful in this volume. Four Square Jane remains an enigmatic person until the end of the book, though in the meantime she is responsible for a series of risky crimes performed with a neatness and cleverness which cannot but evoke admiration. The expression with regard to Mr. Wallace may be becoming hackneyed, but it is undoubtedly true that he has written another masterly mystery story in this case. Other volumes will follow quickly in The Crime Series, until it is a regular show gallery of clever criminals and clever detectives. Meanwhile, it is a pleasure to introduce (though the actual formal introduction is postponed until almost the last page of the book) the reader to Exhibit No. 1, than whom there will be none more interesting or charming--Four Square Jane! The Editor. THE CRIME SERIES What is The Crime Series? It is a collection of many of the best “crook,” detective and mystery stories of the day, published in handy volumes which will look pleasant and uniform on the library shelves of devotees of this class of fiction. They are a series within the Readers Library, which, for a long time past, has published some of the best “crook” fiction of the times. Famous writers whose books have appeared in the Library include Edgar Wallace, Mrs. Belloc Lowndes, Sydney Horler, Thea von Harbou, Earl Derr Biggers and many others. The popularity of “crook” stories apparently never dies. In order that readers may be able to recognize particularly good volumes coming within this category at sight, the Readers Library proposes to make a careful selection from amongst “crook” stories and to produce a set of the best of them in the Crime Series, which will have a specially designed paper wrapper by which they can be known. The Series will not only include original stories by the most celebrated authors of detective stories, it will also contain the novelised versions of many of the first-class “crook” plays and films which are produced from time to time. The Crime Series therefore promises to be a unique collection of ingenious and thrilling stories. Look out for volumes in The Crime Series! CONTENTS Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX FOUR SQUARE JANE I Mr. Joe Lewinstein slouched to one of the long windows which gave light to his magnificent drawing-room and stared gloomily across the lawn. The beds of geraniums and lobelias were half-obscured by a driving mist of rain, and the well-kept lawns that were the pride of his many gardeners were sodden and, in places, under water. “Of course it had to rain to-day,” he said bitterly. His large and comfortable wife looked up over her glasses. “Why, Joe,” she said, “what’s the good of grousing? They haven’t come down for an al fresco fête; they’ve come down for the dance and the shooting, and anything else they can get out of us.” “Oh, shut up, Miriam,” said Mr. Lewinstein irritably; “what does it matter what they’re coming for? It’s what I want them for myself. You don’t suppose I’ve risen from what I was to my present position without learning anything, do you?” Mr. Lewinstein was fond of referring to his almost meteoric rise in the world of high finance, if not in the corresponding world of society. And, to do him justice, it must be added that such companies as he had promoted, and they were many, had been run on the most straightforward lines, nor had he, to use his own words, risked the money of the “widows and orphans.” At least, not unnecessarily. “It’s knowing the right kind of people,” he continued, “and doing them the right kind of turns that counts. It’s easier to make your second million than your first, and I’m going to make it, Miriam,” he added, with grim determination. “I’m going to make it, and I’m not sticking at a few thousands in the way of expenses!” A housewifely fear lest their entertainment that night was going to cost them thousands floated through Mrs. Lewinstein’s mind, but she said nothing. “I’ll bet they’ve never seen a ball like ours is to-night,” her husband continued with satisfaction, as he turned his back on the window and came slowly towards his partner, “and the company will be worth it, Miriam, you believe me. Everybody who’s anybody in the city is coming. There’ll be more jewels here to-night than even I could buy.” His wife put down her paper with an impatient gesture. “That’s what I’m thinking about,” she said. “I hope you know what you’re doing. It’s a big responsibility.” “What do you mean by responsibility?” asked Joe Lewinstein. “All this loose money lying about,” said his wife. “Don’t you read the paper? Don’t any of your friends tell you?” Mr. Lewinstein burst into a peal of husky laughter. “Oh, I know what’s biting you,” he said. “You’re thinking of Four Square Jane.” “Four Square Jane!” said the acid Mrs. Lewinstein. “I’d give her Four Square Jane if I had her in this house!” “She’s no common burglar,” said Mr. Lewinstein shaking his head, whether in admonition or admiration it was difficult to say. “My friend, Lord Belchester--my friend, Lord Belchester, told me it was an absolute mystery how his wife lost those emeralds of hers. He was very worried about it, was Belchester. He took about half the money he made out of Consolidated Grains to buy those emeralds, and they were lost about a month after he bought them. He thinks that the thief was one of his guests.” “Why do they call her Four Square Jane?” asked Mrs. Lewinstein curiously. Her husband shrugged his shoulders. “She always leaves a certain mark behind her, a sort of printed label with four squares, and the letter J in the middle,” he said. “It was the police who called her Jane, and somehow the name has stuck.” His wife picked up the paper and put it down again, looking thoughtfully into the fire. “And you’re bringing all these people down here to stop the night, and you’re talking about them being loaded up with jewellery! You’ve got a nerve, Joe.” Mr. Lewinstein chuckled. “I’ve got a detective, too,” he said. “I’ve asked Ross, who has the biggest private detective agency in London, to send me his best woman.” “Goodness gracious,” said the dismayed Mrs. Lewinstein, “you’re not having a woman here?” “Yes, I am. She’s a lady, apparently one of the best girls Ross has got. He told me that in cases like this it’s much less noticeable to have a lady detective among the guests than a man. I told her to be here at seven.” Undoubtedly the Lewinstein’s house-party was the most impressive affair that the county had seen. His guests were to arrive by a special train from London and were to be met at the station by a small fleet of motor cars, which he had pressed to his service from all available sources. His own car was waiting at the door ready to take him to the station to meet his “special” when a servant brought him a card. “Miss Caroline Smith,” he read. On the corner was the name of the Ross Detective Agency. “Tell the young lady I’ll see her in the library.” He found her waiting for him. A personable, pretty girl, with remarkably shrewd and clever eyes that beamed behind rimless glasses and a veil, she met him with an elusive smile that came and went like sunshine on a wintry day. “So you’re a lady detective, eh?” said Lewinstein with ponderous good humour; “you look young.” “Why, yes,” said the girl, “even way home, where youth isn’t any handicap, I’m looked upon as being a trifle under the limit.” “Oh, you’re from America, are you?” said Mr. Lewinstein interested. The girl nodded. “This is my first work in England, and naturally I am rather nervous.” She had a pleasant voice, a soft drawl, which suggested to Mr. Lewinstein, who had spent some years on the other side, that she came from one of the Southern States. “Well, I suppose you pretty well know your duties in the game to suppress this Four Square woman.” She nodded. “That may be a pretty tough proposition. You’ll give me leave to go where I like, and do practically what I like, won’t you? That is essential.” “Certainly,” said Mr. Lewinstein; “you will dine with us as our guest?” “No, that doesn’t work,” she replied. “The time I ought to be looking round and taking notice, my attention is wholly absorbed by the man who is taking me down to dinner and wants my views on prohibition. “So, if you please, I’d like the whole run of your house. I can be your young cousin, Miranda, from the high mountains of New Jersey. What about your servants?” “I can trust them with my life,” said Mr. Lewinstein. She looked at him with a half-twinkle in her eyes. “Can you tell me anything about this she-Raffles?” she asked. “Nothing,” said her host, “except that she is one of these society swells who frequent such--well, such parties as I am giving to-night. There will be a lot of ladies here--some of the best in the land--that