The Counts Chauffeur | Page 6

the reply was negative, and with the inspector at my side and the sergeant opposite, we moved off towards Piccadilly, the jeweller's manager having been requested to attend at Bow Street Police Station in a hour, in order to identify the stolen property. By that time the charge would be made out, and we should, the inspector said, be up before the magistrate for a remand before the Court rose.
As we drove along Piccadilly, my heart fell within me. All my dreams of those splendid, well-kept roads in the sunny south, of touring to all the gayest places on the Continent, and seeing all that was to be seen, had been shattered at a single blow. And what a blow!
I had awakened to find myself under arrest as the accomplice of one of the most expert jewel thieves in Europe!
My companions were not communicative. Why should they have been?
Suddenly I became aware of the fact that we had driven a considerable distance. In my agitated state of mind I had taken no notice of our route, and my captors had, it seemed, endeavoured to take my attention off the direction we had taken.
Collecting my scattered senses, however, I recollected that we had crossed one of the bridges over the Thames, and looking out of the window, I found that we were in a long, open road of private houses, each with a short strip of railed-off garden in front -- a South London thoroughfare evidently.
"This isn't the way to Bow Street!" I exclaimed in wonder.
"Well, not exactly the straight way," grinned the inspector. "A roundabout route, let's call it."
I was puzzled. The more so when I recognised a few minutes later that we had come down the Camberwell New Road, and were passing Camberwell Green.
We continued up Denmark Hill until, at the corner where Champion Hill branches off, the inspector called to the cabman to stop, and we all descended the detective-sergeant paying the fare.
Where were they taking me? I wondered. I asked, but they only laughed and would vouchsafe no reply.
Together we walked up the quiet, semi- rural Champion Hill, until we reached Green Lane, when at the sharp right angle of the road, as we turned, I saw before me an object which caused me to hold my breath in utter amazement.
The car was standing there, right before me in the lonely suburban road, and in it, seated at the wheel, a man whom I next second recognised as the Count himself! He was evidently awaiting me.
He was wearing a different motor-coat the car bore a different number, and as I approached I noticed that the coronet and cipher had been obliterated by a dab of green paint!
"Come on, Ewart!" cried the Count, jumping down to allow me to take his place at the steering.
I turned to my captors in wonder.
"Yes, away you go, Ewart," the inspector said, "and good luck to you!"
Without another second's delay, I sprang upon the car, and while the Count as he jumped up at my side, shouted good-bye to my captors, I started away towards Lordship Lane and the open country of Surrey.
"Where shall we go?" I inquired breathlessly, utterly amazed at our extraordinary escape.
"Straight on through Sydenham, and then I'll tell you. The sooner we're out of this, the better. We'll run along to Winchester, where I have a little house at Kingsworthy, just outside the city, and where we can lie low comfortably for a bit."
"But shan't we be followed by those men?" I asked apprehensively.
"Followed -- by them? Oh, dear no!" he laughed. "Of course, you don't understand, Ewart. They all three belong to us. We've played a smartish game upon the jeweller, haven't we? They had to frighten you, of course, because it added a real good touch of truth to the scheme. We ought to be able to slip away across the Channel in a week's time, at latest. They'll leave to-night -- in search of me!" and he laughed lightly to himself.
"Then they were not detectives?" I exclaimed, utterly staggered by the marvellous ingenuity of the robbery.
"No more than you are, Ewart," was his reply. "But don't bother your head about them now. All you've got to look after is your driving. Let's get across to Winchester as quickly as possible. Just here! -- sharp to the right and the first to the left takes us into the Guildford road. Then we can move."
A SENTIMENTAL SWINDLE.
COUNT BINDO'S retreat near Winchester proved to be a small, rather isolated house near Kingsworthy. It stood in its own grounds, surrounded by a high wall, and at the rear was a very fair garage, that had been specially constructed, with inspection-pit and the various appliances.
The house was rather well furnished, but the only servant was a man, who turned out