Four square Jane
“Indeed?” said Peter with a smile. “I think I know the young lady by
sight.”
“And she was going to make an interesting communication to me just as
you came in,” said Claythorpe. “Perhaps, Joyce, dear, you will tell
Mr. Dawes?”
“I was only going to say that this morning I received this.” She did
not go to her bag, but produced a folded paper from the inside of her
blouse. This she opened and spread on the table and Claythorpe’s face
went white, for it was the five hundred thousand dollar bond which he
had despatched the day before to Australia. “I seem to remember,” said
the girl, “that this was part of my inheritance--you remember I was
given a list of the securities you held for me?”
Lord Claythorpe licked his dry lips.
“Yes,” he said huskily. “That is part of your inheritance.”
“How did it come to you?” asked Peter Dawes.
“It was found in my letter-box this morning,” said the girl.
“Accompanied by a letter?”
“No, nothing,” said Joyce. “For some reason I connected it with the
mail robbery, and thought that perhaps you had entrusted this
certificate to the post--and that in your letter you mentioned the
fact that it was mine.”
“That also is impossible,” said Peter Dawes quietly, “because, if your
statement is correct, this document would have been amongst those
which were stolen on the night that Remington was murdered. Isn’t that
so, Lord Claythorpe?”
Claythorpe nodded.
“It is very providential for you, Joyce,” he said huskily. “I haven’t
the slightest idea how it came to you. Probably the thief who murdered
Remington knew it was yours and restored it.”
The girl nodded.
“The thief being Four Square Jane, eh?” said Peter Dawes, eyeing his
lordship narrowly.
“Naturally, who else?” said Claythorpe, meeting the other’s eyes
steadily. “It was undoubtedly her work, her label was on the inside of
the safe.”
“That is true,” agreed Peter. “But there was one remarkable fact about
that label which seems to have been overlooked.”
“What was that?”
“It had been used before,” said Peter slowly. “It was an old label
which had previously been attached to something or somewhere, for the
marks of the old adhesion were still on it when I took it off. In
fact, there were only a few places where the gum on the label remained
useful.”
Neither the eyes of the girl or Lord Claythorpe left the other’s face.
“That is curious,” said Lord Claythorpe slowly. “What do you deduce
from that?”
Dawes shrugged.
“Nothing, except that it is possible someone is using Four Square
Jane’s name in vain,” he said, “someone who was in a position to get
one of the old labels she had used on her previous felonies. May I sit
down?” he asked, for he had not been invited to take a seat.
Claythorpe nodded curtly, and Dawes pulled a chair from the table and
seated himself.
“I have been reconstructing that crime,” he said, “and there are one
or two things that puzzle me. In the first place, I am perfectly
certain that no woman was in your office on the night the murder was
committed.”
Lord Claythorpe raised his eyebrows.
“Indeed!” he said. “And yet the constable who was first in the room
told me that he distinctly smelt a very powerful scent--the sort a
woman would use. I also noticed it when I went into the room.”
“So did I,” said Peter, “and that quite decided me that Four Square
Jane had nothing to do with the business. A cool, calculating woman
like Four Square Jane is certain to be a lady of more than ordinary
intelligence and regular habits. She is not the kind who would
suddenly take up a powerful scent, because it is possible to trace a
woman criminal by this means, and it is certain that in no other case
which is associated with her name was there the slightest trace or
hint of perfume. That makes me more certain that the crime was
committed by a man and that he sprinkled the scent on the floor in
order to leave the impression that Four Square Jane had been the
operator.”
“What do you think happened?” asked Lord Claythorpe after a pause.
“I think that Remington went to the office with the intention of
examining the contents of the safe,” said Peter deliberately. “I
believe he had the whole of the envelopes on the table, and had opened
several, when he was surprised by somebody who came into the office.
There was an argument, in the course of which he was shot dead.”
“You suggest that the intruder was a burglar?” said Lord Claythorpe
with a set face, but Peter shook his head.
“No,” he said. “This man admitted himself to the office by means of a
key. The door was not forced, and there was no sign of a skeleton key
having been used. Moreover, the newcomer must have been well
acquainted with the office, because, after the murder was committed he
switched out the light and pulled up the blinds which Remington had
lowered, so that the light should not attract attention from the
street. We know they were lowered, because the constable on beat duty
on the other side of the street saw no sign of a light. The blinds
were heavy and practically light-proof. Now, the man who committed the
murder knew his way about the office well enough to turn out the
light, move in the dark, and manipulate the three blinds which covered
the windows. I’ve been experimenting with those blinds, and I’ve found
that they’re fairly complicated in their mechanism.”
Again there was a pause.
“A very fantastic theory, if you will allow me to say so,” said Lord
Claythorpe, “and not at all like the sensible, commonsense point of
view that I should have expected from Scotland Yard.”
“That may be so,” said Peter quietly. “But we get romantic theories
even at Scotland Yard.”
He looked down at the bond, still spread out on the table.
“I suppose your lordship will put this in the bank after your unhappy
experience?” he said.
“Yes, yes,” said Lord Claythorpe briefly, and Peter turned to the
girl.
“I congratulate you upon recovering a part of your property,” he said.
“I understand this is held in trust for you until you’re married.”
Lord Claythorpe started violently.
“Until you’re married!” he said. “Why, why!” He caught the girl’s
smiling eyes. “That means now, doesn’t it?” he said.
“Until your marriage is approved by me,” said Lord Claythorpe.
“I think it is approved by you,” said Joyce, and dived her hand into
her bag.
“It will be delivered to you formally to-morrow,” said his lordship
stiffly.
Peter Dawes and the girl went out of the house together and walked in
silence a little way.
“I’d give a lot to know what you’re thinking,” said the girl.
“And I’d give a lot to know what you know,” smiled Peter, and at that
cryptic exchange they parted.
That night Mr. Lewinstein was giving a big dinner party at the Ritz
Carlton. Joyce had been invited months before, but had no thought of
accepting the invitation until she returned to the hotel where she was
staying.
A good-looking man rose as she entered the vestibule, and came towards
her with a smile. He took her arm, and slowly they paced the long
corridor leading to the elevator.
“So that’s Mr. Jamieson Steele, eh?” said Peter Dawes, who had
followed her to the hotel, and he looked very thoughtfully in the
direction the two had taken.
He went from the hotel and called on Mr. Lewinstein by appointment,
and that great financier welcomed him with a large cigar.
“I heard you were engaged upon the Four Square Jane case, Mr. Dawes,”
he said, “and I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea if I invited you to
dinner to-night.”
“Is this a professional or a friendly engagement?” smiled Peter.
“It’s both,” said Mr. Lewinstein frankly. “The fact is, Mr. Dawes, and
I’m not going to make any bones about the truth, it is necessary in my
business that I should keep in touch with the best people in London.
From time to time I give a dinner-party, and I bring together all that
is bright and beautiful and brainy. Usually these dinners are given in
my own house, but I’ve had a rather painful experience,” he said
grimly, and Peter, who knew the history of Four Square Jane’s robbery,
nodded in sympathy.
“Now, I want to say a few words about Miss Four Square Jane,” said
Lewinstein. “Do you mind seeing if the door is closed?”
Peter looked outside, and closed the door carefully.
“I’d hate what I’m saying to be repeated in certain quarters,”
Lewinstein went on. “But in that robbery there were several remarkable
coincidences. Do you know that Four Square Jane stole nothing, in most
cases, except the presents that had been given by Claythorpe?
Claythorpe is rather a gay old bird and has gone the pace. He has been
spending money like water for years. Of course, he may have a big
income, or he may not. I know just what he gets out of the City. On
the night of the burglary at my house this girl went through every
room and took articles which in many cases had been given to the
various people by Claythorpe. For example, something he had presented
to my wife disappeared; some shirt-studs, which he gave to me, were
also gone. That’s rather funny, don’t you think?”
“It fits in with my theory,” said Peter nodding, “that Four Square
Jane has only one enemy in the world, and that is Lord Claythorpe.”
“That’s my opinion, too,” said Lewinstein. “Now to-night I am giving a
big dinner-party, as I told you, and there will be a lot of women
there, and the women are scared of my parties since the last one.
There will be jewels to burn, but what makes me specially nervous is
that Claythorpe has insisted on Lola Lane being invited.”
“The dancer?” asked Peter in surprise, and the other nodded.
“She’s a great friend of Claythorpe’s--I suppose you know that? He put
up the money for her last production, and, not to put too fine a point
upon it, the old man is infatuated by the girl.”
Mr. Lewinstein sucked contemplatively at one of his large cigars.
“I am not a prude, you understand, Mr. Dawes,” he said, “and the way
men amuse themselves does not concern me. Claythorpe is much too big a
man for me to refuse any request he makes. In the present state of
society, people like Lola are accepted, and it is not for me to reform
the Smart Set. The only thing I’m scared about is that she will be
covered from head to foot in jewels.”
He pulled again at his cigar, and looked at it before he went on:
“Which Lord Claythorpe has given her.”
“This is news to me,” said Peter.
“It would be news to a lot of people,” said Lewinstein, “for
Claythorpe is supposed to be one of the big moral forces in the City.”
He chuckled, as though at a good joke. “Now, there’s another point I
want to make to you. This girl Lola has been telling her friends--at
least, she told a friend of mine--that she was going to the Argentine
to live in about six months’ time. My friend asked her if Lord
Claythorpe agreed to that arrangement. You know, these theatrical
people are very frank, and she said ‘Yes.’” He looked at the
detective.
“Which means that Claythorpe is going, too,” said Peter, and
Lewinstein nodded.
“That is also news,” said Peter Dawes. “Thank you, I will accept your
invitation to dinner to-night.”
“Good!” said Lewinstein, brightening. “You don’t mind, but I may have
to put you next to Lola.”
That evening when Peter strolled into the big reception hall which Mr.
Lewinstein had engaged with his private dining-room, his eyes wandered
in search of the lady. He knew her by sight--had seen her picture in
the illustrated newspapers. He had no difficulty in distinguishing her
rather bold features; and, even if he had not, he would have known,
from the daring dress she wore, that this was the redoubtable lady
whose name had been hinted in connection with one or two unpleasant
scandals.
But chiefly his eyes were for the great collar of emeralds about her