The trio separated, and neither took any notice of the others.
Jeanjean came out into Oxford Street, where I was standing in the shadow, and walking a few doors down in the direction of Great Portland Street, halted suddenly before the door of a large jeweller's shop, swiftly unlocked it with a key he held ready in his hand, and, ere I could realize his intention, he was inside with the door closed behind him.
The key had, no doubt, been already prepared from a cast of the original, and the scene of action well prospected. Otherwise he would never have dared to act in that openly defiant manner almost under the very noses of the police.
I drew back and waited, watching the operations of the most notorious jewel-thief in Europe, Benham keeping a wary eye upon the other pair.
Vernon, after a few moments, crossed into Poland Street, a narrow thoroughfare nearly opposite, while Bertini, carrying the bag, slipped along to the jeweller's shop, and also entered by the unlocked door.
In the heavy iron revolving shutters were gratings, allowing the police on the beat to see within, but from where I stood I could see no light inside. All was quite quiet and unsuspicious. It was a marvel to me how silently and actively both men had slipped from view right under the noses of the police in Oxford Street, who are ever vigilant at night.
Vernon, watched by Benham, had hidden himself in a doorway with the evident intention of remaining until the coup was successfully effected, and to immediately take over the spoils and lock them away in his safes in Hatton Garden.
Five, ten, fifteen breathless minutes went by.
I saw the constable on the beat, walking with his sergeant, approaching me. Both were blissfully ignorant that within a few yards of them was the great Jules Jeanjean, for whose capture the French police had long ago offered a vast reward.
I was compelled to shift from my point of vantage, yet I remained in the vicinity unseen by either.