Only seven were hanged
prosecuting counsel admitted that this was certainly the cleverest
crime Gore had ever planned. But then, there was a woman in it, and
the probability is that she had a hand in the scheme.
His object, then, after deciding to steal, was to look out for a
means of escape. Attack, then take cover. Strike, then run.
Assuredly it was a woman's plan. Gore never doubted his ability to
take the diamond.
In one way circumstances favored him greatly. The ship was actually
bringing the gem nearer to him every day. The diamond was in charge
of the purser, locked in a safe in his room. There was no need to
search for it. This floating hotel was merely a strong-room, and
Gore was able to break open any strong-room. But this moving
strong-room, unless he could leave it swiftly, might become a prison
wagon.
There was only one port at which the ship called before she arrived
at Southampton. This port was Madeira. Gore decided that the coup
must be brought off between Madeira and Southampton and as near the
latter port as possible. It was at this stage that the necessity for
an accomplice became evident.
Gore did not usually work with anyone else, but the circumstances
were stronger than his conceit. He might meet the liner at Madeira
and take the diamond there; but Madeira was an island from which
escape would be difficult. On the other hand, Southampton was well
situated for his design. The Solent was not such a broad arm of the
sea that it could not be negotiated; and from the Isle of Wight to
France was less than a day's, or a night's, journey.
The woman whom we believed aided him was one named Chicago Anne. She
was from that city, a blonde of great attraction, one of a fast set
not above crime of this kind. But she was wary. She made the plan
to a large extent, and then introduced him to an international crook
named Archer. Archer was promised a certain portion of the proceeds.
The three of them traveled down to Southampton, surveyed the coast,
and decided details. Then Archer left with his part of the scheme to
carry out. Chicago Anne returned to London with him.
Gore remained in Southampton, where, through a local agent, he booked
a passage to Madeira on a sister ship of the incoming liner. She was
due to sail the next day and would reach Madeira several days before
the other ship arrived there on her homeward run. Under an assumed
name a passage was booked homeward by Gore on the ship bearing the
diamond.
His luggage consisted of one handbag, and from the moment he stepped
on the outgoing liner he concentrated on his job. He kept to the
deck during the passage down the Solent. He noted the lights on the
shore and the position of the sea beacons. When the Needles were
passed and the open sea made the vessel roll he turned to a study of
the ship.
There was a large plan of the vessel in the saloon and he examined
this carefully. He noted that his cabin--that is, the cabin on his
return journey--was situated within easy distance of the purser's
room. He became friendly with the stewards, from whom he gained
valuable information. He asked for, and obtained, a seat at the
purser's table in the dining-room. To this official he made himself
affable, and often he visited the purser's room on pretense of
getting information about general matters. But he watched and noted.
He took care to acquire a knowledge of the movements of the staff,
the routine of the daily work, a detailed outline of the life on
board. By the time he reached Madeira he could have told fairly
accurately what was being done by the various officers at any hour.
He spent the waiting days on the island; and when the incoming liner
arrived he went on board as soon as possible. In twelve hours the
voyage to England was resumed and the second stage in the plan to
steal the diamond had opened.
The liner had a full complement of passengers. In the smoke-room no
secret was made of the fact that the celebrated gem was on board.
Some of the passengers had seen it when it was on view in
Johannesburg. They described how it had been discovered by a colored
worker in the mine and how it had been guarded from that moment. It
was being brought to London to be shown to experts before being sent
to the cutters in Amsterdam. Its value was put at varying figures,
none of which was less than fifty thousand pounds.
"What is its ultimate destination?" asked one of the passengers.
"Nobody knows," was the reply.
Nathaniel Gore smiled. He was the only man who knew!
Off St. Vincent the weather thickened and a stormy crossing of the
Bay of Biscay was predicted. The prediction was accurate. By the
time they were over the forty-fifth latitude most of the passengers
were in their cabins, many in their bunks. There were empty saddles
at every table in the dining-saloon.
Gore kept his feet by strength of will, and vanity. He had not been
able to get into close touch with the purser of this vessel, owing to
the number of people on board; but the bad weather gave him his
opportunity. He waited until the ship's bar was closed and then he
went to the purser to ask for a dose of brandy. But the purser was
not a talkative man. He was civil, but uncommunicative. He did not
invite Gore to sit down; but Gore did not retreat. He stood in the
cabin, sipping the brandy and watching. He saw the small safe built
into the paneling of the wall. That was enough for him.
The Bay was crossed and gradually the passengers returned to the
deck. The English Channel was smooth. The liner picked up speed.
She passed the Wolf Rock. Land's End loomed up mistily through the
haze. The Lizard came into view. The Eddystone Light stood in the
sea like a white pillar. Gore rubbed his hands in anticipation. The
crisis was approaching.
He was not nervous about it. He never was nervous. He stayed mostly
in his cabin until the ship drew well up the Channel. Then her speed
slackened. Night came. Gore went down to dinner that evening as
usual, and immediately it was over he strolled on deck. He looked
ahead, muttering the names of the lights that glittered in the soft,
mellow darkness.
"Over there is Bournemouth, then Hengistbury Head, the Needles, St.
Catherine's Point---- Ah, there is Anne--and Archer!"
Some distance ahead a light on a masthead swayed against the sky.
Chicago Anne and Archer were waiting, as had been planned. Nathaniel
Gore calculated the distance quickly. He had received a wireless
from Anne and Archer. The moment had arrived. He went down the
stairs from the deck.
It was late by this time and practically all the passengers had
turned in for the night. But Gore did not go to his berth. He
walked along the passage to the purser's room.
The door was closed. He tried the handle. It turned. He pushed the
door open and stepped inside, closing it behind him. The purser was
sitting at his table, writing. He looked up.
"Good evening, purser."
"What do you want?"
"Oh, I knew you were writing up your accounts. I dropped in----"
"What do you want?"
The official's hand dropped toward a drawer under his desk.
"I have come to take the diamond," said Nathaniel Gore. "Lift your
hand out of that drawer!"
In his own right hand he held a small revolver, the barrel of which
was pointed straight at the purser.
The purser did as he was bid.
"I have come to take the diamond," repeated Gore, smiling.
That was all. There was no melodramatic flourish to his speech. He
might have been asking for a match to light his cigar.
The purser was an old seaman, cool, quiet, not given to excitability.
Most people would have leaped up and been shot. The purser did not
show any sign of fear or surprise. He put his hands openly on the
desk in front of him and shook his head.
"I did not expect you to come for it with a gun," he said.
"Come, you did not expect me at all!"
"You bet I did. There are two men on this ship after the diamond.
One came aboard at Capetown. We know his plans as well as he knows
them himself. But you came aboard at Madeira and your real name is
Nathaniel Gore. You are a gem-lifter, and until now you have never
carried a gun."
It was Gore's turn to be surprised, but he kept his eyes on the
purser. "How did you know my name?"
"We have wireless, you know. The liner on which you went out to
Madeira had it from Scotland Yard that you probably were aboard.
They knew, I expect, that this diamond would tempt you. I don't know
any more than that. But we got it from our sister ship as she passed
us that you had disembarked at Madeira."
"And the other man?"
"He is on this ship still. He hasn't tried to steal the diamond, for
his plans are to get it--if he can--at the docks--and we have taken
precautions. He won't take it."
"No," agreed Gore, "he won't. The diamond is in that safe."
"It is."
"So _I'll_ take it."
"I may object."
"You can count yourself out."
"I don't know about that. But in any case there is another factor."
"What is it?"
"The fact that we are at sea."
"Meaning?"
"Even if you took it you could not keep it. You could not land with
it."
"You think not?"
"There is also another matter."
"What is it?"
"Listen!"
The sound of hurrying feet on the passage outside burst on their
ears. Gore stepped back and slid the heavy bolt home just as
somebody shook the handle and demanded entrance.
"That is the skipper and one or two others," explained the purser,
shrugging his shoulders.
"You signaled to them?"
"I did with a push-button under the table here. We had the alarm
fixed up for daytime. At night a regular burglar alarm is fastened
to the door."
"That was very clever."
"I thought you would admit it. You are caught."
"Are you sure?"
"Don't you agree?"
The voices outside grew louder in their demands for entrance. Gore
was still smiling.
"No," he said, "I don't agree. Look out of the port."
The purser turned his head and saw lights twinkling straight ahead.
About a thousand yards up the Channel a masthead lantern bobbed.
"You see, I have no time to waste," said Gore. "I want the key of
the safe."
"The key? Why, man, you are caught like a rat in a trap!"
"Very well, I shall shoot if you don't hand it over."
The purser was about to leap to his feet and resist the threat when
Gore shot him squarely between the eyes.
It was deliberate murder, prompted and dictated by vanity.
Nathaniel Gore had never previously carried a gun on a job. He had
been, up to this crime, free from violence in his methods. But one
of the points in the defense which his counsel put forward at his
trial was that the woman, Chicago Anne, had so worked on his natural
conceit that he had promised her he would kill rather than fail.
It is possible that she had her own reasons for prevailing on him to
take a weapon he had never previously carried. To please a woman a
man may do abnormal acts. To make himself a hero in her eyes he may
risk his own life--and lose it.
From the moment he fired that fatal shot Nathaniel Gore concentrated
with all his skill on the object of his visit. The purser had been
marking time, holding him in conversation so that aid would come,
believing that Gore would surrender when he heard the officers at the
door. But Gore could not now surrender, even if he was willing. He
never intended to let himself be taken.
Paying no attention to the noise in the passage, he rummaged in
drawers and in the dead man's pockets for the key he wanted. He
found it, and opened the safe. There, in a drawer of the safe, was a
packet, square in shape and sealed on all sides. He tore off the
covering and took a hurried glance inside the morocco case to make