It was then that a scheme of dazzling simplicity suggested itself to James. It was the luncheon hour, the beach would be comparatively deserted, he would return to Mon Desir, hang up the trousers where he had found them, and regain his own garments. He started briskly towards the beach.

Nevertheless, his conscience pricked him slightly. The emerald ought to be returned to the Rajah. He conceived the idea that he might perhaps do a little detective work – once, that is, that he had regained his own trousers and replaced the others. In pursuance of this idea, he directed his steps towards the aged mariner, whom he rightly regarded as being an exhaustible source of Kimpton information.

‘Excuse me!’ said James politely; ‘but I belive a friend of mine has a hut on this beach, Mr Charles Lampton. It is called Mon Desir, I fancy.’

The aged mariner was sitting very squarely in a chair, a pipe in his mouth, gazing out to sea. He shifted his pipe a little, and replied without removing his gaze from the horizon:

‘Mon Desir belongs to his lordship, Lord Edward Campion, everyone knows that. I never heard of Mr Charles Lampton, he must be a newcomer.’

‘Thank you,’ said James, and withdrew.

The information staggered him. Surely the Rajah could not himself have slipped the stone into the pocket and forgotten it. James shook his head, the theory did not satisfy him, but evidently some member of the house-party must be the thief. The situation reminded James of some of his favourite works of fiction.

Nevertheless, his own purpose remained unaltered. All fell out easily enough. The beach was, as he hoped it would be, practically deserted. More fortunate still, the door of Mon Desir remained ajar. To slip in was the work of a moment, Edward was just lifting his own trousers from the hook, when a voice behind him made him spin round suddenly.

‘So I have caught you, my man!’ said the voice.

James stared open-mouthed. In the doorway of Mon Desir stood a stranger; a well-dressed man of about forty years of age, his face keen and hawk-like.

‘So I have caught you!’ the stranger repeated. ‘Who – who are you?’ stammered James. ‘Detective-Inspector Merrilees from the Yard,’ said the other crisply. ‘And I will trouble you to hand over that emerald.’

‘The – the emerald?’

James was seeking to gain time.

‘That’s what I said, didn’t I?’ said Inspector Merrilees.

He had a crisp, business-like enunciation. James tried to pull himself together.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ he said with an assumption of dignity.

‘Oh, yes, my lad, I think you do.’

‘The whole thing,’ said James, ‘is a mistake. I can explain it quite easily –’ He paused.

A look of weariness had settled on the face of the other.

‘They always say that,’ murmured the Scotland Yard man dryly. ‘I suppose you picked it up as you were strolling along the beach, eh? That is the sort of explanation.’

It did indeed bear a resemblance to it, James recognized the fact, but still he tried to gain time.

‘How do I know you are what you say you are?’ he demanded weakly. Merrilees flapped back his coat for a moment, showing a badge. Edward stared at him with eyes that popped out of his head.

‘And now,’ said the other almost genially, ‘you see what you are up against! You are a novice – I can tell that. Your first job, isn’t it?’

James nodded.

‘I thought as much. Now, my boy, are you going to hand over that emerald, or have I got to search you?’

James found his voice.

‘I – I haven’t got it on me,’ he declared.

He was thinking desperately. ‘Left it at your lodgings?’ queried Merrilees.

James nodded.

‘Very well, then,’ said the detective, ‘we will go there together.’

He slipped his arm through James’s.

‘I am taking no chances of your getting away from me,’ he said gently. ‘We will go to your lodgings, and you will hand that stone over to me.’

James spoke unsteadily.

‘If I do, will you let me go?’ he asked tremulously.

Merrilees appeared embarrassed.

‘We know just how that stone was taken,’ he explained, ‘and about the lady involved, and, of course, as far as that goes – well, the Rajah wants it hushed up. You know what these native rulers are?’

James, who knew nothing whatsoever about native rulers, except for one cause célèbre, nodded his head with an appearance of eager comprehension.

‘It will be most irregular, of course,’ said the detective; ‘but you may get off scot-free.’

Again James nodded. They had walked the length of the Esplanade, and were now turning into the town. James intimated the direction, but the other man never relinquished his sharp grip on James’s arm.

Suddenly James hesitated and half-spoke. Merrilees looked up sharply, and then laughed. They were just passing the police station, and he noticed James’s agonized glances at it.

‘I am giving you a chance first,’ he said good-humouredly.

It was at that moment that things began to happen. A loud bellow broke from James, he clutched the other’s arm, and yelled at the top of his voice:

‘Help! thief. Help! thief.’

A crowd surrounded them in less than a minute. Merrilees was trying to wrench his arm from James’s grasp.

‘I charge this man,’ cried James. ‘I charge this man, he picked my pocket.’

‘What are you talking about, you fool?’ cried the other.

A constable took charge of matters. Mr Merrilees and James were escorted into the police station. James reiterated his complaint.

‘This man has just picked my pocket,’ he declared excitedly. ‘He has got my note-case in his right-hand pocket, there!’

‘The man is mad,’ grumbled the other. ‘You can look for yourself, inspector, and see if he is telling the truth.’

At a sign from the inspector, the constable slipped his hand deferentially into Merrilees’s pocket. He drew something out and held it up with a gasp of astonishment.

‘My God!’ said the inspector, startled out of professional decorum. ‘It must be the Rajah’s emerald.’

Merrilees looked more incredulous than anyone else. ‘This is monstrous,’ he spluttered; ‘monstrous. The man must have put it into my pocket himself as we were walking along together. It’s a plant.’

The forceful personality of Merrilees caused the inspector to waver. His suspicions swung round to James. He whispered something to the constable, and the latter went out.

‘Now then, gentlemen,’ said the inspector, ‘let me have your statements please, one at a time.’

‘Certainly,’ said James. ‘I was walking along the beach, when I met this gentleman, and he pretended he was acquainted with me. I could not remember having met him before, but I was too polite to say so. We walked along together. I had my suspicions of him, and just when we got opposite the police station, I found his hand in my pocket. I held on to him and shouted for help.’

The inspector transferred his glance to Merrilees. ‘And now you, sir.’

Merrilees seemed a little embarrassed.

‘The story is very nearly right,’ he said slowly; ‘but not quite. It was not I who scraped acquaintance with him, but he who scraped acquaintance with me. Doubtless he was trying to get rid of the emerald, and slipped it into my pocket while we were talking.’

The inspector stopped writing.

‘Ah!’ he said impartially. ‘Well, there will be a gentleman here in a minute who will help us to get to the bottom of the case.’

Merrilees frowned.

‘It is really impossible for me to wait,’ he murmured, pulling out his watch. ‘I have an appointment. Surely, inspector, you can’t be so ridiculous as to suppose I’d steal the emerald and walk along with it in my pocket?’

‘It is not likely, sir, I agree,’ the inspector

replied. ‘But you will have to wait just a matter of five or ten minutes till we get this thing cleared up. Ah! here is his lordship.’

A tall man of forty strode into the room. He was wearing a pair of dilapidated trousers and an old sweater.

‘Now then, inspector, what is all this?’ he said. ‘You have got hold of the emerald, you say? That’s splendid, very smart work. Who are these people you have got here?’

His eyes ranged over James and came to rest on Merrilees. The forceful personality of the latter seemed to dwindle and shrink.

‘Why – Jones!’ exclaimed Lord Edward Campion.

‘You recognize this man, Lord Edward?’ asked the inspector sharply. ‘Certainly I do,’ said Lord Edward dryly. ‘He is my valet, came to me a month ago. The fellow they sent down from London was on to him at once, but there was not a trace of the emerald anywhere among his belongings.’

Tags: Agatha Christie Miss Marple Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net