We were in the manageress’s room, a cosy apartment in the back of the quaint old hostelry, when a waitress came and announced Inspector Deane. The official was at once shown in, whereupon he said abruptly—
“The truth is out, Miss Hammond, regarding your strange visitors of last night.” And he glanced inquiringly at myself.
“You can speak openly before this gentleman,” she said, noticing his hesitation.
“The fact is, a circular-telegram has just been sent out from Scotland Yard, saying that by the express from Edinburgh due at King’s Cross at 10.45 last night the Archduchess Marie Louise, niece of the Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria, was a passenger. She had been staying at Balmoral, and travelled south in a special saloon. When the luggage came to be collected a dressing-case was missing—it evidently having been stolen in transit by somebody who had obtained access to the saloon while on the journey. The corridor was open between York and London, so that the restaurant could be reached, and it is believed that the thief, or thieves, managed to pass in unobserved and throw the bag out upon the line to some confederate awaiting it. The bag contained a magnificent diamond necklet—a historic heirloom of the Imperial family of the Hapsburgs—and is valued at fifty thousand pounds!”
“And those people who met here were the thieves!” gasped the manageress, turning instantly pale.
“Without a doubt. You see, the Great Northern main line runs close by us—at Essendine. It may be that the thieves were waiting for it near there—waiting for it to be dropped out in the darkness. All the platelayers along the line are now searching for the bag, but we here are certain that the thieves spent the night in Stamford.”
“Not the thieves,” I said. “The receivers.”
“Exactly.”
“But the young foreigner has it!” cried the boots. “He and his friend set off for London with it.”
“Yes. They would reach London in time to catch one of the boat-trains from Victoria or Charing Cross this morning, and by this time they’re safely out of the country—carrying the necklet with them. Ah! Scotland Yard is terribly slow. But the delay seems to have been caused by the uncertainty of Her Highness as to whether she had actually brought the dressing-case with her, and she had to telegraph to Balmoral before she could really state that it had been stolen.”