Outrageous Fortune (30 page)

Major Anderson said, “This is a most extraordinary story, Randal.”

The inspector said nothing. His light, rather prominent eyes remained fixed on Jim's face.

Jim went on again.

“I'll cut it as short as I can, but you've got to understand the sort of state I was in. Nesta Riddell showed me a marriage certificate. She said we'd been married on the twenty-fifth of July at the Grove Road registry office in London, and she told me that I had shot Elmer Van Berg and stolen eight very valuable emeralds on the night of the sixth of August. She wanted to know what I had done with the emeralds. She said I was on the
Alice Arden
because I was on my way to Glasgow. She said I'd hidden the emeralds before I went, and she wanted to know where they were.”

Major Anderson took a step forward.

“Really, Randal, I don't know whether you hadn't better see a doctor. This is the most extraordinary story!”

The inspector shifted his light stare to the Chief Constable.

“I think I should let him go on, sir.”

Jim Randal laughed.

“I know it sounds extraordinary, but I'm perfectly sane. I'd like to go on if I may.”

He went on.

“I went to the public library and read up the Van Berg Case. I couldn't believe I'd gone to see a man as a friend, talked with him, had drinks with him, and then shot him.”

Major Anderson made an abrupt movement. Jim turned towards him.

“Bits of my memory were coming back. It was like seeing pictures—little brightly lighted pictures. I could see myself drinking with Elmer Van Berg. I knew that I called him Elmer, and that his wife's name was Susie. And when I remembered all that, I got the wind up, because it seemed as if I must have done it—and there were my finger-prints on the glass I'd used. I fairly got the wind up. I saw a poster, ‘Man Wanted by the Police,' and my one idea was to get out of Ledlington. Well, I started out across country without any idea of where I was going. I kept trying to think things out, but it was all a muddle. The most damning thing was that Nesta Riddell really did think I'd got the emeralds—there was no mistake about that.”

Major Anderson coughed. The fellow was incriminating himself, getting deeper and deeper every minute. Temporary insanity—that would be the best line for the defence to take. Unpleasant business—very.

Jim restrained a smile and went on.

“I wandered about, and I slept a bit, and then I got into country which seemed familiar. To cut a long story short, I fetched up at Hale Place, and when I got there I remembered everything except the time between the first of July and the thirteenth of August—which was when I waked up at Happicot.”

The inspector made a note of the dates.

“I got into the house and I stayed there. You can understand that I wanted time. I made up my mind to wait for a week and see what happened. You see, there were several things that might happen. I might remember—or Elmer Van Berg might recover consciousness—or the police might lay hands on the real criminal. I knew I was exposing myself to suspicion, but I decided to wait. For one thing, I still wasn't sure whether I wasn't Jim Riddell.” He looked from one to the other. “Have you got that clear? Except for some very compromising flashes of memory which gave me pictures of the emeralds and of Elmer, my recollections stopped short at July the first. There was all July and a bit of August for me to have called myself Jimmy Riddell, turned crook, married Nesta Williams, burgled the emeralds, and shot Elmer Van Berg. You see my point?”

He got no response, Major Anderson wore a worried frown. The inspector's face was perfectly blank; he might have been thinking deeply, he might have been on the point of dropping asleep. Neither his heavy features nor his pale stare gave the slightest clue to what was passing in his mind. He had written half a dozen words on the sheet of foolscap which lay before him. His pen remained poised.

Jim went on speaking.

“During the time I was at Hale Place the house was twice entered—”

“Entered?” said Major Anderson sharply.

Jim nodded.

“There's a room there called the Blue Room. It has five windows like slits. The burglar came straight to this room on both occasions. The first time I surprised him. He charged me and got away. The second time he got what he had come for—the emeralds.”

“What?”
said Major Anderson.

“The emeralds were at Hale Place?” said the inspector.

“They were hidden in the Blue Room. He got away with them, and I followed him to Hinton by the field path. He caught the last train into Ledlington, and I just missed it. I came on in the morning and watched for Mrs Riddell—I had some information which led me to suppose that he had come to her for money, and that she would meet him with it, probably after dark. I watched the road all day. In the evening Miss Leigh met me. She had her car, and thanks to her I was able to follow Mrs Riddell when she came out. She had taken her brother's motor-bicycle. We followed her to St Leonard's Tower. Miss Leigh remained in the field, whilst I went on to the ruins. I overheard an interview between Mrs Riddell and the man. They quarrelled. She had parked the money somewhere, and absolutely refused to hand it over unless he showed her the emeralds. In the end he gave way. They were on one side of the Tower, and I was on the other, with one of those narrow slits between us. He struck a match, and there were the emeralds dangling about a yard away from me.” He paused.

“Well?” said Major Anderson.

Jim laughed.

“I grabbed them.”

He dived into a pocket and flung a glittering heap of green and pearl upon the inspector's foolscap.

“There they are!” he said.

XXXV

Major Anderson came forward and leaned on the table. Caroline looked up from the tangle of green and pearl and saw his face. Something that was written there brought her to her feet. She came and stood by Jim, and as she put a hand on his shoulder, the inspector said,

“Well, sir, I think that settles it.”

Caroline began to shake. Why had Jim told them all those things? They weren't going to understand. The things they were thinking were like a fog in the room. She felt as if it were stifling her. Jim's hand came up and covered hers. It was strong, and warm, and heavy. He said,

“Go and sit down, Caroline.”

And then, to the inspector,

“You'd better let me finish. I've only got half way.”

“Let him go on,” said Major Anderson in a hard, tired voice. It was a good thing old James Randal was dead. Nice woman Mrs Randal. Not many of her sort left nowadays—sweet voice; pretty ways; womanly. That was it—not many womanly women left. A good thing she'd gone—a thing like this would have killed her. The fellow must be mad of course. A damned bad business.

He watched the inspector pick up the shining heap. It straightened into a double pearl-strung chain linking the eight square emeralds so lightly that they seemed to hang in the air. They were as magically green as a black cat's eyes. The inspector let them fall upon a piece of blotting paper.

Major Anderson went back to the fireplace and said curtly,

“Go on, Randal.”

Jim moved his chair back a little. He wanted to be able to address the Chief Constable without appearing to ignore the inspector.

“Now we're really going to get down to it. I snatched the emeralds and made off just about as hard as I could go, and all in a flash, whilst I was running, my memory came back. You know the way a blind goes up with a click. It was like that. I won't bother you with how we fetched up here. I want to tell you what I've remembered. To start with, I wasn't Jim Riddell, and I hadn't married Nesta Williams. My business over here was to try and interest various important people in a new steel process which I had invented. Elmer Van Berg was one of them. He'd been nibbling at it out in the States, where I'd known him pretty well. He's the sort of man who gets red-hot keen about a thing and then drops it—not a stayer—you've got to strike while the iron's hot. Well, he'd cooled off. On the sixth of August I had a telephone conversation with him. When he heard that certain other people were interested in my process, he warmed up a bit. I can't mention names, because it's all very confidential. The upshot of the talk was that he wanted me to go down and see him. Well, I was leaving for Scotland next day and I didn't want to put off going, so I went down by train to Hinton and walked over to Packham. I was glad to get the exercise.”

“What train did you take?” said the inspector.

“The eight-twenty. It got into Hinton at ten-fifteen. I believe it is due at ten-ten. I walked over to Packham, and it took me about an hour and a half. I went round to the library and knocked on the window, and Elmer let me in as we had arranged. We talked, and we had drinks, but we didn't come to any agreement.”

“Did you quarrel?” said the inspector.

“It depends on what you'd call a quarrel. We didn't agree. If you don't agree with Elmer, he tries to shout you down. There's nothing in it, but it's noisy while it lasts.”

“You parted on bad terms?” said the inspector.

“Oh no, we didn't—he blew himself out and calmed down. We had another drink. He told me about all the shows they were going to, and about the emeralds. He said his wife was going to wear them at the Rackingtons' in a day or two—tableaux for some charity—so he'd got them in the house. He asked me if I'd like to see them, and I said yes. He took them out of his safe and showed them to me. That was the bit I remembered—his hand under the light, and those eight thumping big stones. I said they must be worth a fortune, and he said they were. Then I said good-night and went out the same way I'd come in. I let myself out. He was over by the table swinging the chain on his finger and worshipping it. He's crazy about stones.”

The inspector spoke again.

“You left him like that?”

“I left him like that. No, I haven't finished—not by a long chalk. I'd missed the last train handsomely, so I walked into Ledlington.”

The inspector's eyebrows twitched.

“You walked into Ledlington?”

“I did.”

“Twenty miles?”

“Why not? I told you I was short of exercise.”

“Mr Van Berg didn't ask you to stay the night?”

“Yes, he asked me.”

“Why didn't you stay?”

“I didn't want to. I wanted to get back to London—I'd my boat to catch.”

“So you walked to Ledlington?”

“Yes. I took the first train on up to town and went on board the
Alice Arden.
You know about the wreck, so I can skip all that. I was washed overboard and flung up on a piece of rock. I don't know why I wasn't battered to bits—there was an awful sea running, and a fog, so that you couldn't see your hand before your face. It didn't take me long to find out that the tide was coming in. I didn't think much of my chances, because I didn't think my rock was above high water mark. I could hear people shouting and screaming. I shouted as loud as I could. Presently something bobbed up and hit me. It was a man. A wave fairly slung him at me, and I grabbed him. At first I thought he was dead, but he wasn't. He began to cough and choke, and curse and cry. He was out of his head with terror. I held on to him, or he'd have been off the rock a dozen times. The fog was so thick that I couldn't see him, and he couldn't see me, and, as I said, he was clean out of his wits with fright. I couldn't make out whether he thought he was dead, or whether he was just afraid he was going to die. Anyway he was talking-crazy. I don't think he ever stopped, and it was all, ‘Jimmy Riddell,' and, ‘Eight green stones—like a kid's green beads.' He must have said that hundreds of times. It was like having a gramophone record going round and round in your head. I couldn't stop him—he just went right on: “Jimmy Riddell,' and, ‘A kid's green beads,' and, ‘No one knows where they are except me.' And then a piece about, ‘Five windows—like slits—' and, ‘The finest emeralds in the world.'” Jim paused and looked from one to the other. “Do you see? I said it was like a gramophone record going round in one's head. Well, that's just what it was. All those things he kept on saying stuck in my mind, and when I'd lost my memory and didn't know who I was, there they were, and I didn't know what to make of them. I said them in my sleep, and they made Nesta Riddell think I knew all about the emeralds.” He pushed back his chair and got up. “I can't tell you anything more. That's the last I remember—being on the rock, and the tide coming up. They say they found me on a ledge, but I don't know how I got there. And I suppose Jimmy Riddell must have been picked up by the life-boat. He wouldn't have given his real name.”

The inspector's eyebrows twitched again.

“You say the emeralds were hidden at Hale Place. How do you account for that?”

“I can't account for it. The five windows like slits are in the Blue Room at Hale Place. The emeralds were hidden there.”

“How?”

Jim hesitated for the first time..… Oh well, it was bound to come out. He said,

“There's a secret hiding-place in the room. The emeralds were there.”

“Can you explain how Jimmy Riddell knew of the secret hiding-place?”

“No, I can't.”

Three words had stayed in Caroline's mind: “His real name.” Jimmy Riddell's real name—
Jimmy Riddell's real name
—

She got up and came to the table, her eyes very bright, her cheeks flaming.

“His real name—” she said—“Jimmy Riddell's real name—do you know it?”

The inspector shifted that light, impassive stare. It rested upon Caroline and took in her colour, the excitement in her eyes, and the slight tremor of her hands. She was bareheaded, with bright tossed curls. Her hands were bare too.