“He is a very prince of thieves. Yet, at the same time, one must regard him with some admiration for his daring and audacity, his wonderful resourcefulness and his strict adhesion to fair play. For years he lived in France, Italy and Spain, constantly changing his place of abode, his identity, his very face, and always evading us; yet nobody has ever said that he did a mean action towards a poor man. He certainly suffered an unjust punishment by that false accusation made against him by the man who was apparently jealous of his leadership, and who desired to become his successor.”
“Then you are of opinion that my wife left me in order to secure my protection from harm?”
“I am quite certain of it. You recollect my meeting with her at the Hôtel Meurice in Paris. She told me several things on that occasion.”
“And Pennington very nearly fell into your hands.”
“Yes, but with his usual cleverness he escaped me.”
“Where is he now? Have you any idea?” I asked.
“I have no exact knowledge, but, with the arrest of four of his accomplices, it will not be difficult to find out where he is in hiding,” he laughed.
“And the same may be said of Poland—eh?”
“No; on the contrary, while the man Pennington, alias Du Cane, is hated—and it will be believed by those arrested that he has betrayed them in order to save himself—yet Poland is beloved. They know it was Du Cane who made the false charge connecting Poland with Harriman, and they will never forgive him. The hatred of the international thief is the worst and most unrelenting hatred existing in the whole world. Before Poland came to live in retirement here in England at Middleton, near Andover, his association consisted only of the most expert criminals of both sexes, and he controlled their actions with an iron hand. Once every six months the members from all over Europe held a secret conference in one capital or another, when various tasks were allotted to various persons. The precautions taken to prevent blunders were amazing, and we were baffled always because of the widespread field of their operations, and the large number of experts engaged. The band, broken up into small and independent gangs, worked in unison with receivers always ready, and as soon as our suspicions were aroused by one party they disappeared, and another, complete strangers, came in their place. Premises likely to yield good results from burglary were watched for months by a constant succession of clever watchers, and people in possession of valuables sometimes engaged servants of irreproachable character who were actually members of the gang. Were their exploits chronicled, they would fill many volumes of remarkable fact, only some of which have appeared in recent years in the columns of the newspapers. Every European nationality and every phase of life were represented in that extraordinary assembly, which, while under Poland’s control, never, as far as is known, committed a single murder. It was only when the great leader was condemned and exiled, and the band fell away, that Pennington, Reckitt and Forbes conceived the idea of extorting money by means of the serpent, allowing the reptile to strike fatally, and so prevent exposure. By that horrible torture of the innocent and helpless they must have netted many thousands of pounds.”
“It was you, you say, who arrested Poland down in Hampshire.”