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Title: The Hatton Garden CrimeAuthor: Arthur Gask* A Project Gutenberg Australia eBook *eBook No.: 1202421h.htmlLanguage: EnglishDate first posted: June 2012Date most recently updated: June 2012Produced by: Maurie MulcahyProject Gutenberg Australia eBooks are created from printed editionswhich are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright noticeis included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particularpaper edition.Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check thecopyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing thisfile.This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictionswhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the termsof the Project Gutenberg Australia License which may be viewed online athttp://gutenberg.net.au/licence.html
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For many years Reuben Leyden had been one of the best-known diamond dealersin Hatton Garden and it was said that, almost fabulous sums of money had attimes, in the course of a few minutes, changed hands in his modest suite ofrooms. Of a shrewd and intellectual countenance, he was a rather frail-lookingsmall man of slight physique. He had a peculiar melodious voice, with just thetrace of Dutch accent in his speech. His office staff consisted of three girlclerks and a burly pugilistic attendant. This latter was always well withincall.
One morning two new clients called at Leyden's place of business. Both menwere about middle age.
One was tall and aristocratic looking, smartly, and even foppishly dressed,and sporting a large monocle. The other, of much heavier build, waswell-dressed, too, his right arm, however, with the hand swathed in a thickbandage, was carried in a sling.
"I want to see Mr. Leyden," drawled the tall man to the pugilistic attendantwho had come forward. "I'm Sir Francis Bessington," and he handed over hisvisiting card. The attendant looked questioningly at the second man. "Major vonSwartz," snapped the latter in gutteral tones. "We are friends."
The card was taken into the inner office, and, a few seconds later, the twovisitors were ushered into Reuben Leyden, who was seated behind a big tabledesk. The attendant followed them, and, after pushing to the door, but notclosing it, seated himself down at a small desk in a corner of the room, andbegan busying himself with some papers. He had an automatic pistol in hispocket. Leyden never took any chances with strangers.
Acknowledging the dealer's good morning with a curt nod, Sir Francisproduced a fair-sized diamond from some cotton-wool in a small box and handedit across the desk.
"I want to know what you'll match this stone for," he said.
Leyden motioned them both to chairs, and proceeded to examine the diamondunder a powerful magnifying glass. "It is a goot stone," he remarked presently,"quite a goot stone."
"Of course it is," snapped the men with the bandaged hand, "and I knowsomething about diamonds, as I lived in Johannesburg for a couple of years." Headded rudely, "I've come here with my friend to make sure he pays noextortionate price."
Leyden smiled. "No one pays me an extortionate price," he said gently. "I'mquite a fair dealer," and pulling a glass case containing some fine scalesbefore him, he proceeded to weigh the diamond carefully. "Yes, I can match it,"he said, and rising from his chair, he passed out of sight into a small innerroom leading out of his office.
Returning very quickly with a small cardboard box in his hand, from sometissue paper he spilled about a dozen glittering stones on to a small square ofblack velvet, which he had taken from a drawer in the desk. After someconsideration, he picked out one and placed it side by side with the one SirFrancis had brought with him. "It will cost you £110," he said. "As Itold you, yours is a goot stone, but mine is even a little better."
"Too much," snapped the German. "You must take off £20." He turned toSir Francis and spoke rapidly in his own tongue. "The price is quitereasonable, but we must beat him down. I'll do all the arguing because you arealways such a fool in making a bargain."
"Ja, ja," nodded Sir Francis.
He could not have continued the conversation further in German as 'Ja' and'Nein' were the only words he knew.
Von Swartz turned back to the dealer. "Yes, we offer you £90."
The dealer shook his head. "But I cannot sell at that price. You are gettinggoot value at £110, the best of values."
"Let's have your magnifying glass," said the German. "It's a bit awkward forme with this poisoned hand." He examined the stone carefully, and then asked,"Been all your life in diamonds, I suppose?"
"All my life," nodded the dealer. "And my family, for four generations, havebeen all cutters or dealers." He spoke proudly. "It was my father who cut thegreat Cullinan diamond for His Majesty King Edward VII. He was more than twoyears on the work."
Von Swartz looked more amiable, and finally it was agreed to pay the sumasked.
The two then took their leave, with the intimation that they might bereturning in a day or two for some more stones, as Sr Francis was intending tomake up a necklace. The attendant was asked to call a taxi, and given half acrown as a tip.
Driving away, the German, speaking now in much less gutteral tones, askedrather anxiously. "Well, do you think you can do it, Matt?"
"Sure, after a little practice at home," grinned the other, and he added ina good imitation of the dealer's voice, "It is a goot stone, and I cannot sellfor less." He laughed. "But do you think he understood what you said inGerman?"
"Of course he did," replied von Swartz. "I tell you I know for certain helived for some time in Stuttgart and that his wife's a German."
He nodded. "What I said then would convince him we were just ordinarybuyers."
The following day the two returned again, and with the attendant a witnessof the transaction, bought another diamond, this time paying £130 for aslightly bigger one.
They seemed much more friendly now, and as if they no longer thought theywere going to be cheated. "And some time within the next month or so," drawledthe man who was passing himself off as Sir Francis Bessington, "I may bebringing you the necklace for which I am wanting these new stones." He sighedheavily. "The ladies are deuced expensive, particularly the extra prettyones."
Out in the street again, the man who had called himself von Swartz saidconfidently, "Now, next time I shall be very surprised if the old devil keepsthat ugly brute of an attendant in the room. Jews are naturally secretive, andhe won't like the man seeing too much of what business he is doing and guessingat the big profits he must be making."
He shook his head vexatiously. "Still, until he is cleared out we can't do athing."
Two days later they were back in the dealer's office, and they cursed deeplywhen the attendant prepared to take up his accustomed seat. However, Leydenmade a slight adjustment to the position of the ink well upon his desk, and,that being an arranged signal, to the great relief of the two visitors, the manat once proceeded to leave the room. Still, he only pulled the door to and didnot quite close it.
Very soon quite a good assortment of diamonds were spread out upon thedealer's little square of black velvet, and he was pointing out their beautyand value. The German had moved up closer to the desk table to get a betterview.
Then, suddenly, von Swartz's injured hand slipped from its bandage and,quick as the strike of a snake, had shot out over the desk and gripped thedealer fiercely by the throat. The latter had not had the very fraction of asecond's warning, and he uttered no cry and made no sound as the German threwhimself over the desk and lifted him bodily out of his chair. The strangething, however, was that it seemed the dealer was still talking, and even inslightly louder tones than before.
"But they are goot stones," came his melodious voice, "and the best thatmoney can buy."
With the Jew black in the face, and now quite unconscious, von Swartz laidhim noiselessly upon the floor and, slipping on a pair of gloves, darted intothe little inner room where the precious stones were always kept.
"But you must really knock off £100, Mr. Leyden," came the slow,drawling voice of Sir Francis, "and then we'll call it a deal." And the voiceof the dealer answered back that he could not possibly reduce his price.
Then for some minutes an imaginary conversation was carried on, with therumble of the voices clearly audible in the adjoining room.
The dual speaker had nerves of steel, and his voice never trembled, but forall that, his face had blanched a horrid sickly colour, and his forehead waspricked out in little beads of sweat. Success or failure was now balanced onthe razor's edge, and everything depended upon what happened in the next fewminutes.
There—uncovered for all to see—was the dreadful face of thethrottled dealer, while a bare 10 yards away, and with an unclosed door betweensat the all unconscious office staff.
Another caller arriving to see the dealer, a message for him on the phone,and dammit! It would mean death on the scaffold for them both! That fool, Bert,had such a heavy hand, and it was any odds the Jew was dead!
The German reappeared at last, patting his pockets significantly, and hisvoice was now heard in the brief conversation which ensued.
It seemed a bargain was quickly struck and the money passed over. Leyden washeard bidding his customers good-bye, and von Swartz came smilingly into theouter office. Sir Francis, however, lingered for half a minute or so at theopen door of the dealer's room, laughingly chiding Leyden for having extortedso much good money for a few paltry stones.
Then came the critical moment as Sir Francis pulled to Leyden's door, andthe two companions prepared to leave the building. As once before, theattendant was asked to call a taxi, and it happened a disengaged one was foundclose by. Another half-crown tip was passed over, and the attendant stood onthe pavement watching them drive away.
A quarter of an hour passed, and then one of the girls went in to heremployer to inquire if she could now go out for her lunch. What she saw whenshe entered the room, however, quite took away all desire for food.
* * * *
One morning some three weeks later the Chief Commissioner of Police wastalking to one of the head detective-inspectors of Scotland Yard.
The latter seemed in a very despondent mood. "And as far as I can see, sir,"he said, "there seems little hope now of picking up any clue. Beyond that themurderers must have been in close touch with Sir Francis Bessington, asevidenced by their making use of one of his stolen visiting cards the verymorning after he had left Southampton for the United States we have found outpractically nothing. We have uncovered no trace of any foreigner he knew whosedescription would answer to that of the supposed Major von Swartz, and theidentity of the other killer is equally as unknown. Yes, we are completely at adead end."
"It's unfortunate," sighed the Commissioner, "as the newspapers are so veryvicious and clamouring for our blood."
Now it happened that at that very moment when this disconsolate conversionwas taking place at Scotland Yard two men had just arrived at Euston to catchthe Scotch express. They had booked for Glasgow and looked just ordinary men,tourists it might have been, off upon a holiday. One was tall and slim, and theother of much stouter build.
Just from force of habit, perhaps, they glanced round quickly, as theyentered a first-class carriage.
No one appeared to be interested in them, and no one, apparently, gave thema second thought.
Taking two corner seats opposite each other by the window, it seemed theywere going to have the compartment to themselves, but a minute or two beforethe train started an elderly and rather distinguished-looking old gentlemanwith white hair entered hurriedly and took possession of a corner seat on thecorridor side.
He was followed immediately by another man, obviously his servant andprobably his butler, in ordinary clothes. This latter placed a small suitcaseupon the rack, handed his master a small handbag and a rug, and mouthed ratherthan asked if he could do anything more.
The old gentleman shook his head and, taking a magazine out of his bag, atonce proceeded to read. Whereupon his servant turned to the other two occupantsof the carriage and said most respectfully:
"My master is stone deaf, gentlemen, and could not hear if a gun were firedoff right under his ear. So, if anyone comes to see his ticket will you verykindly explain to the collector that he must nudge him to attract hisattention."
The two men said smilingly that they would.
The train started upon its long journey without anyone else coming into thecarriage and the two companions, evidently in high spirits and thinking it agood joke, began to chip the deaf old gentleman.
They called him 'Old Snoozer,' and asked him where he'd left his best girl.Then they addressed him by names which were by no means polite, suggesting thathis parentage, at any rate upon his mother's side, was a matter he would nodoubt like to forget. They remarked, too, that he looked 'a hardened oldwhats-er-name,' and shook with merriment at their own wit.
Getting tired of their play at last, they left him alone and talked betweenthemselves.
The old gentleman read on for some time, and then, probably for a change ofoccupation, put down his magazine and, taking a pad out of his bag, proceededto write.
The whole time he never once lifted his eyes or took the very slightestnotice of the two men. At Crewe the inspector came to examine the tickets, andit seemed that the old gentleman was not only deaf, but also very stupid, asfor a long time he could not remember where he had put his ticket.
At last, however the inspector found it for him among the muddled-up papersin his bag. The old gentleman then handed over a tip with a pleasant word ofthanks.
Later on more passengers entered the compartment, but nothing out of theordinary happened until Carlisle was reached, and then, before even the trainhad been brought to a standstill, a police inspector had swung himself on boardand, followed by three men in plainclothes, had hurried along the corridorstraight to the compartment containing the old gentleman.
Taking no notice of him, however, he pushed his way in straight up to thetwo men who had also come on the train at Euston. "I want a word with you twogentlemen," he said sharply, "so will you please come to the stationmaster'soffice with me at once."
The men gasped in consternation, and then the right hand of the shorter ofthem darted back to his hip-pocket, but the inspector threw himself upon himand jerked out the hand again which was now seen to be clutching to anautomatic. A fierce but brief struggle ensued before the man was secured andcarried out.
His companion, as white as death, gave no trouble, and was taken out, too.It was all over very quickly, and, in a few minutes the journey northwards wasresumed in the usual way.
The evening of the following day the Chief Commissioner of Police leftScotland Yard in an obviously most cheerful frame of mind.
"Yes, my dear," he said to his wife after dinner, "of course it was a mostwonderful piece of luck."
"Though all the credit of their arrests will come to us, every bit of itbelongs to old Lord Barnstable."
"But what on earth had it to do with him?" asked his wife.
"Everything," laughed the Commissioner, "for it was he who landed them highand dry into our net. It was like this:
"It appears that when upon a train journey the old boy has a perfect horrorof being drawn into boring conversations with other travellers, and so, whenhis man had fixed him up in a seat he has orders to tell anyone else in thecarriage that his master is stone deaf, and will they very kindly explain thatto any ticket collector who comes round."
"This happened yesterday, when his lordship took his seat in the ScotchExpress. His man told the tale to two men, the only other passengers in thecarriage. Then when the train had started upon its journey, these men, as avulgar sort of joke, began abusing his lordship and calling him all sorts ofunpleasant names, quite sure, of course, that he wouldn't hear a word.
"Presently, the joke beginning to wear a bit thin, they took to discussingtheir own affairs, and his lordship pricked up his ears when they began talkingabout the Hatton Garden murder. In a few minutes he was quite certain the crimehad been their work, and that they were then actually carrying the diamonds onthem. They even mentioned the name of the fence in Glasgow they were takingthem to."
"But how could they have been so stupid!" exclaimed his wife.
The Commissioner laughed. "We learnt later they had shared a large bottle ofchampagne at the refreshment buffet at Euston before getting on the train, andit was that, no doubt, which was making them so lively. At any rate, to go onwith the story, his lordship stopped reading and started writing letters. Hewrote three as a blind.
"Then when the ticket inspectors came round at the Crewe, His Lordshippretended to be very muddled and unable to find his ticket, and it ended in theinspector helping him to go through the bag.
"There—right on the top of some papers—the man saw an envelopeaddressed to the stationmaster at Crewe and marked in big letters,'Urgent—very urgent. Deliver instantly.'
"Fortunately, in bending over the bag, the inspector had had his back turnedto the two men at the other end of the carriage, and in consequence they didnot see him pick up the envelope. Within five minutes the stationmaster wasphoning us at the Yard. Lord Barnstable's word was good enough for us, and wegot ready to arrest the men at Carlisle."
He chuckled. "And now, as His Lordship refuses to allow the part he playedto become known, as I say, we shall get all the credit, and the public maynever learn how we were helped."
"But who were the men?" asked his wife.
"One was a fourth-rate provincial actor, and the other whom we believe tohave been the actual killer because of his strength, was the cloakroomattendant at the Ormonde, Sir Francis Bessington's favourite club."
The Commissioner frowned. "Ah, but for one little false step at that club weshould have been right on the bullseye, and perhaps have uncovered the wretchesourselves.
"Our mistake there was that we looked for a German who would have known SirFrancis was going to America, instead of trying to find a man who SPOKE German.This cloakroom fellow had been a prisoner in Germany for nearly four yearsduring the last war, and spoke the language almost like a native."
His face cleared. "Never mind, all's well that ends well, and I may even geta knighthood out of this, with any luck."
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