My knock at the door was answered by an obese, slatternly woman, who, in reply to my question, said—
“Mr. Karelin’s gone away.”
“Gone!” I gasped.
“Yes, he came ’ome yesterday about five o’clock, and an ’our afterwards left with his daughter. They took a small box with them, and said they would probably be absent a month or so.”
“He is the thief,” the detective briefly remarked, turning to me.
We searched his rooms, but found nothing to show the direction of his flight. I then accompanied the officer to Leman Street Police Station, where I gave a detailed description of the fugitive and his daughter, which was wired to every police station in the metropolitan area. An hour later information was telegraphed to the ports of departure for the Continent, together with a description of the stolen gems. As, however, weeks passed without tidings of him, it was evident that he and his affectionate daughter had succeeded in getting out of England with their booty.
The celebrated case of forging Russian notes, tried at the Old Bailey, is no doubt still remembered by many readers. The evidence for the prosecution was conclusive, the jury returned a verdict of “guilty,” and Dobroslavin and Bolomez were each sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude.
Subsequent inquiries made by our Party, together with an incident that occurred at Amsterdam, revealed some remarkable facts. Six months after the two innocent men had been sentenced we unravelled the mystery surrounding Karelin, and discovered that he was a genuine escaped exile, but not a “political.” On the contrary, he was accredited by the Russian police as the most expert diamond thief in the whole empire, and for robbing a jeweller in Kovno he had been sent to Siberia with a yellow diamond upon his back. For many years he had had an affection of the eyes, but his blindness was only feigned, and the girl Elyòna was not his daughter, but a clever accomplice.
After his escape from the mines he entered the Russian Secret Service as spy. The Government, viewing with alarm the increasing flood of revolutionary literature emanating from England, saw that the only way to stop it was to get the men who were responsible imprisoned for a term of years. With this object the agent provocateur we knew as Karelin assumed the character of a blind lapidary, obtained an entrance to the house in Little Alie Street, and, when his plans were ripe, secreted the plates and forged notes in the room, first, however, giving anonymous warning to the Metropolitan Police. The result was that two innocent men were convicted, and placed where they could do nothing to annoy the Government of Russia.
Although Dobroslavin and Bolomez are still at Portland, Karelin met with his deserts. He did not escape our vigilance, for our Party found him in Amsterdam some months afterwards endeavouring to sell the great yellow diamond that he had polished. He was arrested, extradited to England, and sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment, while about half of Goldberg’s property was recovered.