IMMEDIATELY Forrest had made his dramatic announcement, I glanced at Evie, for in view of the apprehension she had exhibited earlier in the evening, I was just a little doubtful as to whether she would take kindly to the renewal of my attempts to catch the Pirate. To my satisfaction, she exhibited no signs of trepidation, if she did not appear altogether delighted that I was to have another opportunity of distinguishing myself. In fact as soon as the detective had followed Colonel Maitland from the room, she told me that she was glad.
"I don't fear for you a scrap, Jim. At least not much," she said. "I know you won't do anything foolish, for my sake."
I interrupted with, "Nor for my own."
"And do you know," she continued, "I have a queer sort of impression that when the Pirate is captured, this horrible depression which has been hanging over me will disappear altogether."
"Then captured he must be without delay," I said.
"Though I don't see how Mannering will be affected thereby."
"I am not so sure about that," said Evie.
"You surely cannot think that Mannering is in any way connected with the Motor Pirate?" I inquired in surprise, for any such idea had long passed from my mind.
"I don't know," she remarked dreamily; "I don't know. But I should not be surprised. I really could believe anything about him."
I reminded her of the steps Forrest had taken to assure himself that there were no grounds for such a suspicion, but she was not convinced; so I forbore to continue the discussion, changing the conversation to the arrangements to be made for her proposed visit to Norfolk. It was decided that I should write at once to my aunt, and that she should be ready to start the moment I received a reply. We had settled all the preliminaries by the time the Colonel and Forrest returned, and I bade her good night, feeling quite easy in my mind.
"I am delighted to be able to congratulate you," said Forrest, the moment we were outside.
"I am the luckiest man in the world," I replied.
"You are," returned the detective, emphatically. "All the same, I should not have been sorry if Miss Maitland had stuck to her intention of refusing to listen to you until after the capture of the Pirate."
"Why?" I demanded.
"For purely selfish reasons," he replied. "I take it you will not be so keen on the chase. Men in your position don't take risks."
I held out my hand to him. "Put your fist in that," I said. "What I have promised, I stick to; and, to tell the truth, I was never keener on anything in my life."
"That's good news for me," he answered, and I could tell from his tone that he meant it. Besides, he was not a man given to the paying of idle compliments.
We were walking quietly towards my cottage as we talked, and the impulse came upon me to confide to him the presentiment which Evie had in regard to the capture of the Pirate relieving her from her burden of fear. That necessitated my explaining as well as I could the curious influence which Mannering exercised over her. Forrest listened attentively.
"Curious," he muttered, when I had finished. "It is very curious that the fellow should have produced such an impression on Miss Maitland. By the way, he was not at the Colonel's to-night."
"No," I replied.
"I wonder——" he began. He never finished the sentence, nor did he speak again until he reached my door. There he paused, and said lightly, "I think I should like to discover whether the disappointed lover is at home to-night. Are you prepared for a little amateur burglary, Sutgrove?"
"Ready for anything," I assured him.
"It seems a little absurd to suspect Mannering," he remarked meditatively. "Yet there are times when a woman's intuition is a better guide than a man's ratiocination."
"You didn't get any clue in Amsterdam, then?" I asked tentatively, for I was curious to hear the results of his journey.
"No, no. Nothing at all in Holland."
"If Mannering were the Pirate, and had tried to dispose of his plunder there, you would in all probability have caught him; but he would scarcely have chosen to go abroad at the same time as yourself," I remarked.
Forrest emitted a long, low whistle. "By Jove!" he said. "Then it was indeed he whom I saw in Vienna."
"In Vienna?" I queried.
"When did he leave England?" asked the detective, ignoring my question.
"The very day you left," I replied promptly.
"Come, this is getting interesting," he said. "Tonight we will most certainly let the Pirate do his worst on the roads. We will look for a clue to the mystery of his identity nearer home." He looked at his watch. "It's a little too early to pay our call, so if you don't mind, I will come in and we can discuss the matter at leisure."
To say that Forrest's enigmatic utterances filled me with excitement, very inadequately expresses the state of my mind. He followed me indoors, and, while I mixed a drink for each of us, he saw that the windows and doors were closed. Then seating himself in an easy chair, he selected a cigar and remarked—
"Now we can talk."
"I thought you only intended to go to Amsterdam," I began.
"That was my intention," he replied. "But before giving you the results of my inquiries—it won't take long, by the way—I should like to ask you one or two questions, if I may?"
"Fire away," I said.
"Did you mention to any one where I had gone?"
"Not to a soul. At least certainly not at the time, though I have probably mentioned the matter to Miss Maitland since."
"Oh, you young lovers!" he interjected.
"She would not speak of the matter, I know. I gave out to every one else that you had been recalled to London."
"Anyway, it would not have mattered if she had, as Mannering left on the same day as myself. Where did he say he was going?"
"He said he was bound for Paris on business connected with some patents he was applying for. He told us he would be absent for two or three days; and as a matter of fact, he was away for ten."
"That would about fit in," remarked the detective, after a moment's thought. "But of that you shall judge for yourself." He moistened his lips and pulled at his cigar until it was well alight, and then he commenced his story.
"I carried out my original intention, and the night after I left you I caught the 8.30 at Liverpool Street. The next morning I was in Amsterdam. I stayed there three days, until I was quite convinced that no such parcel of diamonds as had been stolen had been offered for sale to any of the Dutch dealers. I could not have failed to hear of it if any such attempt had been made. While there I had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of a Russian agent, whose work I fancy must have been largely political. Ivan Stroviloff his name was, and he had acquaintances in most European capitals. I discussed the matter with him. He thought that an attempt to dispose of the stones was much more likely to be made in Vienna or St. Petersburg than anywhere else except Paris. I was aware of our agents in Paris having been fully informed, and I knew it was not worth my while to go there; but beyond notifying the Austrian police, I doubted whether any steps had been taken in regard to Vienna, so I determined to proceed to the Austrian capital. Stroviloff proved a very decent fellow, rather an exception to the general run, for I don't take to those Russian agents as a rule; and as I was able to give him a few hints and some introductions over here—he was going on to London—he gave me in return letters to some of his colleagues in Vienna and Petersburg, thinking they would probably be of more use to me than application through the usual official channels. Well, I went on to Vienna. I won't weary you with a history of my fruitless inquiries, it would take far too much time. Anyhow, I did find eventually that a parcel of diamonds had been disposed of there, and, as Stroviloff had predicted, I obtained the information through one of the Russian agents and not through the Viennese police. I will say that I do not see how the latter could have helped me, for the purchaser was the representative of a Petersburg house who happened to be in Vienna for the purpose of attending the sale of the Princess Novikoff's jewels—you probably saw all about it in the papers."
It was a remarkable sale, and the extraordinary prices realized are probably fresh in most people's memories. I told Forrest I had seen accounts of it, and he continued.
"Unfortunately I did not get the information until after the representative in question had returned to Petersburg. There was nothing left for me to do but to follow him there if I wanted to satisfy myself as to whether the stones of which I had heard were really the ones stolen from the mail. It was rather like a wild goose chase, but I went. It was the day before I started that I saw the man who reminded me so forcibly of your friend Mannering. It was a very fleeting glimpse of a face which looked in at the door of a restaurant where I happened to be dining, and I should not like to swear that it was he whom I saw. At the time, I put my fancy down to one of those casual likenesses which sometimes lead even keen observers to accost total strangers in the streets as acquaintances. The likeness was, however, undeniable, in spite of something strange about his appearance. However, I paid no attention to the incident, and the next morning I was on my way to Petersburg. There I found no difficulty in obtaining full particulars from the dealer. I have no doubt but that he has purchased the stones which were stolen from the Brighton mail. In size, weight, and quality they answered to the description perfectly. I learned from him that the man from whom he had bought the stones had been introduced to him by a well-known Viennese jeweller. The price asked, though not very greatly below market value, was low enough to tempt him to purchase. The man who offered them suggested that payment should be made, not to himself, but to his firm in Amsterdam. The transaction seemed in every way bonâ fide, the explanation as to the low price being that the Amsterdam firm was rather pressed for cash, and so compelled to realize some of its stock, but was unable to do so in Amsterdam for fear of jeopardizing its credit. The man who sold the stones gave the name of Josef Hoffman, and the merchant produced his card which bore the name of Jacob Meyer and Meyer, and an address in the De Jordaan, Amsterdam. He was described to me as a tall, powerful, fresh-coloured, fair-haired German, of pleasant manners and address. The Petersburg merchant's representative had given him a draft on an Amsterdam bank and, on reaching the Russian capital, after examining the stones, his employer had authorized the payment of the draft by telegraph.
"As soon as I obtained these particulars, I started once more for the Dutch city without wasting much time. Needless to say, I was too late to catch my man. The office in the De Jordaan I found to be a room which had been taken for a week or two, and then vacated, by a person whom I easily identified as the fair-haired German. The draft had been exchanged for a draft on the banker's London agents by the same man. I came on to London immediately, but Hoffman, or whatever his name may be, was a week ahead of me. I traced him to the London bank where he had cashed his draft. He did it in the coolest manner imaginable. He left it one day saying that he required gold, and that if they would get the amount ready—it was over £4000—he would call for it the next day. He actually allowed two days to elapse before doing so. Then he came in a cab with a handbag and took away the gold. That at present is as far as I have got. I only learned the last of these particulars this afternoon, and of course I went at once to the Yard to make my report and to arrange for the circulation of the description of the fair-haired German throughout the country. Then I came on to you."
Forrest finished his drink and stood up. "Now you know as much about the case as I do," he remarked, "and I fancy it is about time for us to pay our proposed visit to our friend Mannering."
"I don't see how you can connect him in any way with Hoffman," I said, as I rose from my seat.
Forrest smiled. "I omitted to tell you one thing," he observed. "I could not see the hair of the man in Vienna whose face seemed familiar to me. But one thing I did remark. The man with Mannering's face wore a fair moustache."
"But Mannering's is dark," I argued. "It was dark when he went away and dark when he returned."
Forrest held up his hand mockingly. "In these days of scientific progress nothing is easier than for the intelligent leopard to change his spots. Ask the brunette when fashion decrees that fair hair is to be worn, and ask again of the blonde how she manages when the exigencies demand raven tresses."
That settled me. "There's only one thing more," I said. "When did you hear that the Motor Pirate was at work again?"
"At St. Albans. I called at the police office on my way here. He was seen about ten o'clock this side of Peterborough and going north."
"It will be rather a sell if Mannering is at home," I remarked.
"He will not be at home," replied Forrest with conviction.