# The Seen and the Unseen/The Robbery on the "Stormy Petrel"

X.
THE ROBBERY ON THE "STORMY PETREL"
I.
THE case of the robbery on board the Stormy Petrel was notable for one thing if for no other—in it the Hon. Augustus Champnell received fees from three separate and, indeed, antagonistic individuals.
The Hon. Augustus had finished reading the morning papers, and was wondering—for business was slack—what the day might bring forth, when there came a tapping at the door, and there immediately entered two servants in livery, bearing between them an iron box, which they placed on a chair. One of them spoke—as if he had been an automaton.
"The Marquis of Bewlay's compliments to Mr. Champnell, and will Mr. Champnell drown the box in a cistern full of water, till the Marquis arrives."
Mr. Champnell stared.
"And when will the Marquis arrive?"
The Marquis arrived almost as soon as the servants had gone. That ancient peer came hobbling into ​the room, leaning on two sticks, and as soon as he saw the box on the chair he seemed more than half disposed to back out again.
"Didn't the rascals tell you to drown the box in a cistern of water?"
"The rascals did. But the Marquis of Bewlay will permit me to observe that I always require a sufficient explanation before I act on instructions which I receive from strangers."
With Mr. Champnell's assistance the Marquis took refuge in a chair.
"What's your fee?"
"My lowest fee is one hundred guineas."
"Too much."
"In the case of the Marquis of Bewlay my lowest fee will be one hundred and fifty guineas."
The Marquis glanced up at him—and leered.
"You shall have it for your impudence—the Champnells always were an impudent lot. Find out who sent what is in that box, and you shall have your hundred and fifty. Here's the key, look inside—only mind, gently does it"
Unlocking the iron box with the key the Marquis gave him, Mr. Champnell found that it contained other smaller wooden boxes, which were divided from each other by layers of cotton wool. Removing the covers of these wooden boxes he perceived that each contained what seemed to be some sort of oil can.
"Thirteen of them, aren*t they?" On counting them Mr. Champnell discovered that the number was correct "Lucky number, and pretty playthings, every one of them. All infernal machines, or I'm a ​hatter. They've come raining in on me by every post—if you look at them you'll see that there is a different postmark on every one of them."
"Are you certain that they are infernal machines?"
"I'll lay you ten to one in anything you like to name that they are, and leave you to prove the contrary—that's the extent of my certainty, Mr. Champnell. Only if you take my advice you'll keep them immersed in water until the thing has been shown to demonstration, either one way or the other. I have no desire to be blown to pieces, if you have."
"Have you no sort of idea where they come from?"
"Once upon a time I was fool enough to enrol myself as a member of a certain secret society. I have broken since then pretty nearly every one of its rules, which I swore to observe, and I think it quite on the cards that these things may have come from some of the society's agents. I'll tell you what I'll do; instead of a hundred and fifty guineas, I'll give you two hundred, if you prove, beyond a shadow of doubt, that they don't. I've come to you instead of going to the police, because I want the thing kept private, but at the same time I am particularly anxious to know if at last the beggars are beginning to try to do what they have threatened to do, times without number."
The Marquis's story was a long one, and not a little involved; some of Mr. Champnell's questions he declined, point blank, to answer. When he had gone, Mr. Champnell still found himself in possession of very slight data to enable him to prosecute ​his researches. He summed the data up in his mind, telling himself, finally, that they really amounted to nothing at all, and had almost resolved to write to the Marquis and decline the conduct of the case unless he furnished him with fuller information on certain points on which he had refused to give any information at all, when the servant came to announce that Mr. Golden, of the firm of Messrs. Ruby and Golden, was at the door and desirous of an interview.
A minute later Mr. Champnell found himself face to face with the junior partner of the famous firm of jewellers—a shrewd, sharp-looking man, who wasted no time in coming to the point
"I have been made the victim, Mr. Champnell, of an atrocious outrage, and I come to you first, because the matter is one which requires delicate handling, and second, because the author of the outrage is a member of your own order. I may add that if you succeed in this matter we may be able to place a good deal of business in your hands—business of a kind which requires the intervention of a diplomatist rather than of a policeman."
The Hon. Augustus bowed.
"You are acquainted with Lord Hardaway?" Another bow from Mr. Champnell "His lordship has been a customer of ours for some time, and is so largely in our debt that some months ago we felt bound to intimate that we could not allow him to add to the already large figure of his account.
"We have recently received information, through side channels, that his lordship was paying his addresses to Miss Bonnyer-Lees, the sole child and ​heiress of the eminent soap-boiler. And, ten days ago, we received a letter from his lordship himself, which was to the effect that he was about to start for a cruise in his yacht, the Stormy Petrel; that Miss Bonnyer-Lees was to accompany him, with other friends; that he had hopes of making Miss Bonnyer-Lees his wife; and he desired us to send him, at once, for his inspection and the lady's, a selection of the finest things we had in stock; in fact, he gave us to understand that matters had reached a stage in which he was anxious to make the lady a handsome present. His lordship went on to add that if he married Miss Bonnyer-Lees our account should receive an immediate settlement; while, on the other hand, if he did not marry her, it was quite possible that we should have to whistle—the word was his lordship's own."
"Where was Lord Hardaway when he wrote this letter?"
"Staying at Miss Bonnyer-Lees' own residence in Kent But the day after we received a telegram from him stating that they had decided to commence the cruise sooner than they had originally intended; that the day following they would be off Deal, on board the yacht, and that the goods were to be sent on board to be examined. The telegram also contained what seemed to me, under the circumstances, to be a somewhat brutal intimation to the effect that if we did not telegraph a reply to say that the goods would be sent off at once the order would be placed elsewhere."
"Did you send the goods?"
"My impulse was to telegraph a refusal. In ​several little matters Lord Hardaway had not used us altogether well, and it seemed to me that in this matter he was not using us altogether well either; there was no necessity, for instance, for him to threaten us with the loss of his custom. My partner, however, Mr. Ruby, would not hear of a refusal. He was naturally unwilling to lose the business which would be associated with what would, probably, be one of the weddings of the season. On one point I did stand firm. As I feared that, if he was the bearer of the goods, Mr. Ruby would quite probably allow himself to be wheedled out of them, without receiving any satisfactory promise of payment, I resolved to take the goods myself. Which I did do."
Mr. Golden paused. At this point of his narrative, which he had reached, a certain uneasiness seemed to possess him.
"It was about midday when I reached Deal. It was both blowing and raining, and what I should have called a regular gale was on. A sailor with the words 'Stormy Petrel' on his cap came to me at the station, and, when I told him who I was, informed me that we must go off to the yacht at once, because his lordship had resolved to weigh anchor if I did not arrive by that train. I had never been to Deal in my life before, and I had some idea that the yacht might be anchored to the pier. But when I got down to the beach I found that there was no pier, and the sailor, pointing to what was merely a speck on the horizon, said, "There's the Stormy Petrel." When he said that, and I saw that the yacht was heaven knows ​how far from land, if I had not felt that the fellow was covertly grinning at me, and that I should never have heard the last of it from Ruby, I should have come straight back to town, which would have been a wiser thing than what I actually did do. I entrusted myself in a cranky boat to the mercy of the, literally, foaming billows."
Again Mr. Golden paused. It might have been imagination, but it seemed to the Hon. Augustus that, at the mere recollection of that experience of the horrors of the ocean, Mr. Golden became a little yellow.
"I am not ashamed, Mr. Champnell, to own that I am no sailor. I have felt qualms upon the Thames. What I suffered in that cockle-shell of a boat, tossed hither and thither amidst that seething mass of waters—I don't know if it was blowing or raining hardest—I will not now attempt to describe. When I reached the Stormy Petrel I was more dead than alive. Lord Hardaway received me on deck; he was, evidently, suffering no inconvenience from the weather. 'Hollo, Golden,' he said, 'you're looking queer.' 'If, my lord,' I answered, 'I am looking as queer as I feel I must be looking very queer indeed. I had no idea before I left town that such a storm was raging.' 'Storm!' he said, 'you don't call this a storm. It's only a capful of wind! Come below and have a peg?' I went downstairs and I had some brandy; then I must have had another attack of illness, because the next thing I can remember is Lord Hardaway clapping me on the shoulder and exclaiming, 'I say, Golden, where are those jewels of yours?’"
​Once more there was a break in Mr. Golden's narrative—he seemed to be oppressed by the weight of his recollections.
"It will give you, Mr. Champnell, an adequate idea of my physical condition when I tell you that, until that moment, I had forgotten that I had the jewels on me, and when I add that I had taken with me from town jewels to the gross value of nearly £20,000 you will understand what that statement means. They were contained in a locked leather case, which was attached to a steel belt which was locked about my waist The keys both of the belt and of the case were in a secret pocket of my waistcoat—see here."
Unbuttoning his waistcoat, Mr. Golden disclosed a tiny pocket, which was ingeniously contrived in the lining.
"When his lordship spoke I put my hand to my waist and found that the belt and case had gone, and not only so, my waistcoat was unbuttoned and the keys had vanished.
"‘My lord,' I cried, as I staggered to my feet, 'I've been robbed.'
"‘By Jove,' he exclaimed, 'if I didn't think so. Come along. Golden, the thief has just gone overboard with the spoil—if you don't look alive he'll get clear away.' You will understand, Mr. Champnell, that I was disorganised both in mind and body—really incapable, in fact, of collecting my thoughts. I allowed his lordship to drag me up above. It seemed to me when I got into the open air that the storm was raging worse than ever; and taking me to the side of the deck, he pointed out a solitary ​individual who was rowing away from the ship in a little boat. 'There's the thief! I thought there was something suspicious about the way in which he came sneaking up from below. Before we knew what he was up to he had dropped into his boat and was off. If you look alive, Golden, you'll catch him yet, red-handed.' The boat in which I had come from shore was still alongside, and, before I had a chance to collect my scattered senses, his lordship had not only bundled me into it, but the boat itself was pushed off from the yacht.
"We chased that boat which contained the solitary rower, as it appeared to me, for hours. I will not dilate on what I still continued to suffer, but through all my agony I urged the rowers in pursuit. As soon as we were within hailing distance I shouted to the fellow, 'Stop!' Directly I did so, standing up in his boat, he dropped something into the sea. I distinctly saw that he dropped something, but what he was too far off for me to see. When we reached him he declared that he had merely thrown overboard some rubbish, but why he had chosen that singularly inopportune moment he did not condescend to explain. We took him in tow, he seeming not at all unwilling, and at last we reached the land. How thankful I was to do so no one but myself can have the faintest conception.
"Hardly had I set foot on terra firma than I became convinced that I had been duped from first to last. The fellow we had chased turned out to be an honest, simple fisherman, who had been employed to take a telegram from the post office to the yacht, and who protested that he had never left his boat, ​and that he knew nothing of my belt or case. I believed, and I believe him. I have no doubt whatever that Lord Hardaway was himself the thief. I would have instituted a prosecution directly I returned to town only Ruby would not hear of it. Mr. Ruby is always fearful of anything in the shape of a scandal. A week has passed. We have heard nothing of his lordship or of the jewels. That, at present, is how the matter stands."
"What is it you wish me to do?"
"To see that the jewels are returned to us."
"And in default?"
"We must either have the jewels or a guarantee of payment—a sufficient guarantee!—or we prosecute. Here is a list of the jewels that are missing, with the several values attached." Mr. Golden handed the Hon. Augustus a sheet of paper. "You perceive that it is a matter which requires delicate handling."
"Quite so. Where is Lord Hardaway now?"
"No one seems to have the least idea. As you are aware, the weather has been very boisterous during the last few days, and, for all anyone seems to know, he and the Stormy Petrel may be at the bottom of the sea together. Altogether, for us, it is a pleasant state of things!"
"Was Miss Bonnyer-Lees on board?"
"She was not. It appears only too probable that the whole business was a deliberately planned conspiracy. As I told you at the beginning, Mr. Champnell, I have been made the victim of an atrocious outrage."
II.
When, Mr. Golden having departed, the Hon. Augustus was left alone he laughed. The story of the jeweller's sufferings appealed to his sense of humour. He studied the list of the missing jewels.
"There appears to be some pretty baubles among them, and they appear to be marked at pretty prices. If Hardaway has got clean away with the spoil they ought to provide him with a pleasant little nest egg with which to start afresh."
He turned to the mantelpiece to get a light for his pipe. Just as he struck a match his ears were saluted by a curious sound which proceeded from behind his back.
"What's that?"
With the lighted match in his hand he turned to listen. The sound continued—it seemed to increase in volume. It was as if some rusty clockwork mechanism had suddenly been set in motion.
"It seems to come from the interior of the Marquis of Bewlay's precious iron case." The case in question still remained where it had originally been placed, upon a chair. Mr. Champnell went to it and raised the lid. "By George! it does! It strikes me that it comes from inside one of these pretty wooden boxes—from inside this one, unless I am mistaken."
He removed the cover from the box in question—the noise did seem to come from inside it. No ​sooner had he done so than there was a sound as if a damp squib had been exploded, a quantity of what seemed like water was dashed into his face, and there drifted through the room a most unpleasant smoke. The Hon. Augustus was amazed.
"It occurs to me that the Marquis was right, and that these ingenious contrivances are infernal machines. Unless I err, one of them has justified its existence by exploding. Considering that there are twelve more of them, I seem to be in a truly comfortable situation. It is a pity Bewlay did not keep them in his possession a little longer, and allow them to explode on his own premises instead of on mine. What is this stuff on my face?" His head and face were covered with moisture. He allowed a drop to trickle into his mouth. "It tastes like sea-water. What is the meaning of this thing? I'll have a look at myself in the glass."
As he was moving towards a mirror something caught his eye which was lying on the floor.
"What the something's that?"
He might well ask—what seemed to be a circlet of scintillating light was lying almost at his feet. He picked it up, staring at it, when he had it in his hand, with growing bewilderment.
"A bracelet!—of diamonds!—As I am a sinner!—How on earth did it get here?" An idea flashed into his brain. "Can it be—it can't be—I do believe it is one of Golden's."
He examined with ee^er eyes the list of the missing jewels.
"It is!—Here's the thing itself!—'A bracelet of twenty-four diamonds, in a plain gold setting, with ​pearl fastenings. When closed the fastening is heart-shaped. Five pearls in fastening.' It is Golden's. Hollo, another of the Marquis's infernal machines seems to be evincing an inclination to go off."
The words were hardly out of his mouth when it did go off; indeed, the whole thirteen had gone off within ten minutes. They had evidently been ingeniously contrived to go off, as rapidly as possible, one after the other, so, as the schoolboys have it, to "keep the pot a-boiling." The room was full of suffocating smoke, Mr. Champnell was drenched with what seemed like sea-water, and he was in the possession of the whole of the missing jewels—they had been vomited forth by the infernal machines.
"Although this looks as if it were a fairy tale," he told himself, "I fancy it has a very simple explanation."
As, some half-hour after, he was driving down Bond Street in a cab, his attention was attracted to an individual who was advancing along the Piccadilly pavement.
"The man himself! So whatever may have become of the Stormy Petrel, milord himself is above water."
Stopping the cab, springing out of it, hastening towards the individual in question, Mr. Champnell accosted him—a tall, willowy man, with a dark, oval face, and big, wild, black eyes.
"I am glad to see, Hardaway, that you've not drowned, in spite of the boisterous weather which has recently prevailed in the Channel. You have probably been kept alive in order to be arrested on a warrant emanating from Scotland Yard."
​"Champnell, you don't mean it?"
"Don't I? When a man steals jewels to the value of twenty thousand pounds, puts them, with about two gallons of sea-water, into thirteen infernal machines; sends those infernal machines to the address of the Marquis of Bewlay; and they are brought to me, and explode, and nearly blow me up, and the whole place besides, it is generally supposed that that man has done something which necessitates the issue of a warrant."
"My dear fellow!—it was only a joke."
"For less pointed jokes men have been sent to penal servitude."
Lord Hardaway slipped his arm through Mr. Champnell's.
"I was so devilish wild, and Golden was so devilish sick, that I couldn't help but spoof him. As for Bewlay, I owe him one for a dozen different things; I was bound to be even with him some time. There was nothing in the tins but water and Golden's jewels."
"Then it doesn't occur to you that you have been guilty of felony, and also of what a hanging judge might construe as an attempt to murder?"
"I say, Champnell, spare my blushes! I hear, dear boy, you've turned detective; you might do me a good turn, and all in the way of business. The fact is, I'm engaged to be married—the Bonnyer-Lees." Lord Hardaway winked. "It will set me on my legs."
"I thought that Miss Bonnyer-Lees was not on board the Stormy Petrel."
"She wasn't. That's what made me so devilish ​wild. She was to have gone, but when it began to blow she hoisted the white feather. I felt that I must have it out of somebody, so I had it out of Golden. But I saw her yesterday, and I made it all right, we're going to be married at once. I'm going to run straight—I swear I am! But if this tale got wind, it might spoil everything. I tell you what, old man, if, in the way of business, you'll make things square with Ruby and Golden, and with old Bewlay, I'll give you any sum in reason you like to name, say a couple of hundred guineas, cash down."
"A couple of hundred guineas, you say?" Mr. Champnell smiled; what at at the moment was not quite plain. "You don't seem conscious that it is a rather curious proposition which you are making me, especially as I happen to be already retained upon the other side, but I'll do the best for you I can."
When the Hon. Augustus reached Messrs. Ruby and Golden's establishment in Bond Street he was received by both the partners in a private room.
"Do I understand, gentlemen, if I return to you the missing jewels, exactly as they left Mr. Golden's hands, that, as they say in the advertisements, no questions will be asked?" Both partners were profuse in their protestations that he might so understand. "Then, in that case, gentlemen, here they are." He placed a leather case before them on the table. The partners stared. "If you will be so good as to examine them, at once, in my presence, you will perceive that they are intact. You quite understand, that no questions are to be asked of ​anyone, and, in particular, nothing is to be said to Lord Hardaway. I may mention, by the way, that Lord Hardaway is to be married, almost immediately, to Miss Bonnyer-Lees."
Mr. Ruby rubbed his hands and smiled.
"We are delighted to hear it, Mr. Champnell—delighted! You may rely on us not to breathe a word to Lord Hardaway; we quite understand that it was only a little joke of his. His lordship is so full of humour."
Mr. Golden's tone—he was examining the jewels as he spoke—was not quite so effusive.
"If you had been in my place, and had suffered what I suffered, you might not have seen the joke quite so clearly, Ruby. There is such a thing as being almost too full of humour."
Mr. Champnell went straight from Bond Street to the Marquis of Bewlay's. He found the Marquis in his smoking-room.
"You may make your mind easy on the subject of those infernal machines. Here they are." Mr. Champnell took thirteen empty tins from a bag which he was carrying. "They have all gone off, but as they were all filled with water it would seem as if somebody had been planning a practical joke at your expense. That sort of infernal machine hardly savours of a secret society."
"It certainly does not, and though you mayn't think it, Mr. Champnell, it's worth all of two hundred guineas to me to know it."
"I am very glad indeed to hear it."
And so the Hon. Augustus told himself again, when, having returned to his own quarters, he had ​propped up his feet against the mantel-shelf and was lighting a cigar.
"I don't think that's a bad morning's stroke of business—five hundred guineas for doing nothing at all."