Blind Policy Part 47

"By George! you've got hold of a case this time, my lad," cried the superintendent; "but it's an attempt at a big burglary. This isn't a way out; it's the princ.i.p.al plate-closet, and they've been trying to get it open, and failed. Hammer leather-covered, wedges, pistols, dark lantern smashed, tin of powder, and marks on the front of the safe door where the wedges have been. Powder smells quite strong here. They must have tried to blast the door open. Out, all of you; they're hiding somewhere. They can't have got away."

The men turned back, all but the one who had given the alarm, and he had struck a fresh match, for the bulb in the ceiling gave forth no light, and was stooping down to sweep away some of the sawdust on the floor.

"Come along, d.i.c.k," cried the superintendent. "What have you got there?"

"Look, sir," said the man, holding out a handful of the sawdust he had sc.r.a.ped up. "There's a bottle yonder that's had port wine in it, but this looks to me like blood."

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

TOM TIDDLER'S GROUND.

"Blood of the grape!" cried the superintendent, contemptuously. "Where were you brought up? Never in a gentleman's wine cellar before? You should go down to the docks and see the floors there. By Jingo! but it is blood!"

More of the sawdust was sc.r.a.ped aside, and the truth was plain enough; a broad patch had lain there, and the granulated wood had been thrown over to soak it up.

But the constable was not satisfied yet; he kept peering about, made his way to the iron door, and then dropped upon his knees.

"Here you are, sir," he cried. "They've put the body in here, it seems to me, for there's a tiny s.m.u.tch just against the edge. There's been murder done."

"You're right, Joe," cried the superintendent, sharply; "but where are the men? You stay here, I'll have the place searched again."

Every nook and corner of the bas.e.m.e.nt was examined without result, and then the rest of the house was carefully gone over once more, but the place proved to be empty, and the superintendent returned to where his sentry was on duty.

"Made anything out, sir?"

"No."

"What about the roof? Must be a trap, and they've got through there."

"There is a trap, my lad, but the cobwebs over it show that it can't have been opened to-day."

"What about the cellar, sir?"

"I have searched all but the wine cellars, and we can't break in there.

I've sent orders to find out who lives here and telegraph to the family to come up."

"But you won't wait, sir, before getting this iron door open?"

"No, I sha'n't wait for that."

"That's right, sir. They've killed the poor lady I saw, I'm afraid, and she's lying in there. That must be a bit of her dress."

There was no further hesitation. Suitable workmen were obtained, and after many hours' toil the great iron door was drilled and prised off, the police stepping forward at once to raise the body they expected to find, and then standing dumbfounded at seeing that there were a couple of shelves upon one side. The rest of the iron closet was perfectly empty.

A little further investigation by the aid of lights soon showed, though, that the supposed strong-room full of costly jewels and plate was only the entrance to another place, one side forming a door.

This was attacked in turn, and after a long resistance was forced off by the workmen, and once more the police advanced on the tip-toe of expectation, to find themselves in a pa.s.sage leading into a crypt-like chamber which had evidently been carefully elaborated out of the old cellarage, traces of which still remained. But there was no sign of occupation, and for a few moments the police hesitated as to which of the two closed doors they should attack. These were both of iron, which, like those of the safe they had pa.s.sed through, were evidently of Belgian manufacture, from the name embossed thereon.

But the hesitation soon pa.s.sed away, for while one proved to be locked the other was unfastened, and after leaving a couple of men on guard, the superintendent pa.s.sed on, leading the way through the farther door.

Beyond was a dark pa.s.sage c.u.mbered with packing-cases, stacked on one side from floor to ceiling, while on turning into another pa.s.sage which ran at right angles, they came upon a couple of heavy chests in the course of being unpacked, a heap of old books standing upon the corner of one.

They examined the place, the bas.e.m.e.nt of a mansion with double kitchens, servants' hall, pantry, and the like, and the cursory glance obtained showed them that the crypt-like vaults through which they had pa.s.sed must be beneath the garden at the back of the house.

But after satisfying themselves that no one was there they ascended a flight of stone steps, to find themselves in the book-enc.u.mbered hall of the professor's home. Then followed a quick search through the chambers of what proved to be an enormous library, room after room being covered with dusty book-shelves, the home of spiders innumerable, while only one chamber on the second floor proved to be a bedroom.

Still, there was no trace of those they sought, and a little further examination showed that they must have pa.s.sed out into the garden, entered the stabling at the bottom, and gone out into the mews at the back, and without doubt before the men were sent round to watch.

"No capture yet," said the superintendent, grimly; "but it seems to me, d.i.c.k, that you'll get your promotion over this bit of mystery, for a nice game of some kind has been carried on, and we haven't got to the bottom of it yet I want that other door open now."

They descended to the crypt again, and paused before the locked iron door, which, thanks to the experience gained in opening the others of the same make, the workmen forced in the course of an hour, and at the first flash in of a bull's-eye lantern a suppressed hiss of excitement escaped from the officer's lips.

"At last!" he muttered. "It's murder, then, after all, but where's the girl?"

For there, just as they had been carried in, ready for future disposal, lay side by side, in the bottom of the roomy iron closet, the bodies of the two servants, each with a bullet wound in the head, such an one as would produce almost instant death.

They were carried out and laid upon a broad table of ma.s.sive make, and as soon as this was done the superintendent examined the iron closet, whose back was covered with a perfect nest of drawers, one of which on being opened proved to be full of carefully-done-up rouleaux, the greater part of the rest being similarly filled.

One of the rouleaux was torn open, and a portion of its contents poured into the officer's hand.

"Sovereigns," he said. "Why, they must have had to do with some bank.

Eh, what?"

"Duffers," said the constable addressed as d.i.c.k. "A gang of smashers."

"It isn't a time for making jokes," said another of the men, who was handling a couple of sovereigns, "or I'd say you was a duffer. Look at that; hark at this."

He handed one coin to the man, and rang another on the heavy table, for it to give out the true sound of sterling gold.

"No smashing here," said the superintendent.

"Then what does all this mean?" said d.i.c.k, directing the light of the lantern he carried across to the far end of the vault. "There's all the tackle--rolling mill, die stamps, and the rest of it."

"Bah! coiners melt their stuff and electro-gild it. These are right enough, and there's a big sum of money in there. Here, to work at once; I must have that door back in its place and the front sealed up."

His man shook his head, and while the superintendent was busy directing the workmen, the constable carefully examined the elaborate machinery, and came upon a couple of chests full of little ingots which seemed to be of the right size for rolling out and stamping into coin.

"I know!" he muttered at last.

"What do you know?" said the superintendent.

"They must be South Africa people with a gold mine of their own, and to save trouble make up their own stuff into sovereigns. Here, I want to look at those poor chaps again."

The superintendent seemed disposed to bid him let them be, but he was beginning to feel more and more confidence in his subordinate's brains, and together they flashed the light over the ghastly faces.

"That's right," said the constable. "I know 'em well. It's the butler and footman from next door. I've often seen 'em."