“I... I have heard that you were ill and I hope you are better,” said Fidelity in the tone of one who desires to placate a moneylender.
“I have to be better, Miss Dove,” answered Crewde. “In these hard times I cannot afford a long illness. What do you want me to do for you?”
“I... I understood you were a financier,” began Fidelity, “and I am in a difficulty which you will understand even better than I. A friend of mine, who knows all about stocks and shares, has told me that if I could invest five thousand pounds now it would be worth thirty-five thousand in a few days.”
Jabez Crewde had no difficulty in suppressing a smile. It was a part of his profession to listen to fantastic tales.
“Go on, Miss Dove,” said Crewde. “As long as you’re not going to suggest that I should lend you the five thousand.”
“Oh, but I was going to suggest just that,” said Fidelity. “You see, I have not the five thousand pounds, and it seems such an awful pity to miss this chance. I don’t know anything about money, but with thirty-five thousand pounds I need never think about it again. That is why I am so anxious to avail myself of this opportunity.”
Mr. Crewde’s eyes strayed to Fidelity’s bag. It was of grey brocade — a dainty, home-like affair that suggested knitting and mothers’ meetings and little rewards for good children.
“Are you offering any security?” he asked.
“You mean stocks and shares,” divined Fidelity. “I’m afraid I haven’t any. The only thing I have of any value is the jewellery my great-uncle left me. I must not sell it, and — in my sect we do not wear jewellery — so I thought that if I were to leave the jewellery with you and pay you back when I have the thirty-five thousand pounds—?”
“Have you any idea what the jewellery is worth?” asked Crewde, while Fidelity produced and opened a number of leather cases.
“It was valued at the time of my uncle’s death,” said Fidelity. “The assessor said it was worth a little over fifty thousand pounds. It seemed to me terrible that so much money should be spent upon adornments.”
Mr. Crewde began an expert scrutiny of the pearls. He was inclined to agree with the assessor as to their worth. He was inclined to think, now that he had taken stock of Fidelity’s perfect grey tailor-made and her little white hat, that she was an extravagant and helpless fool.
“They are good pearls, though they’re not worth anything like that at the present time,” he said presently. “And I don’t as a rule lend money upon jewellery. Have you no other securities?”
“None whatever, I fear,” said Fidelity in dejection.
That was what Mr. Crewde wanted to know. It is of little use to a moneylender to have a very valuable pledge on a small loan if the client has other securities, because the pledge can always be redeemed. But when the very valuable pledge represents the only security, it is reasonably certain to pass into the hands of the moneylender — especially when the loan is made for the purposes of a get-rich-quick scheme.
“Oh, well, I don’t know I’m sure!” Mr. Crewde was muttering with professional reluctance. “Everybody seems to be borrowing money just now. How soon do you expect your... er... your profits to come in, Miss Dove?”
“My friend said in six weeks’ time,” answered Fidelity.
“Six weeks! H’m! I might just be able to manage it.”
Fidelity began to thank him.
“You’re quite sure you can pay it back in the six weeks, mind?” challenged Mr. Crewde.
“Oh, perfectly sure,” exclaimed Fidelity. “My friend was most positive.”
“Very well, then,” said Mr. Crewde. “I’ll put that into writing and I shall ask you to sign it. If you will come here to-morrow at this time, I’ll have the agreement ready for you, together with the money.”
Fidelity barely glanced at the document on the following day. Its numerous clauses and penalties had no direct interest for her. She signed the document, gave a receipt for the cheque, took a receipt for her pearls, and left the dingy house in Islington.
She had borrowed five thousand pounds at sixty per cent, interest on a security of pearls worth fifty thousand pounds.
The meanest man in Europe was very pleased at his latest deal. Twenty years’ experience had taught him that Miss Fidelity Dove would return in six weeks with a tale of misfortune and beg a renewal of the loan. In a year, with careful manipulation, he would be able to sell the pledge for his own profit without advancing any more money. He was elaborating a scheme by which he could save excise stamps on the numerous documents that would be used in the transaction, when his clerk brought him a card.
“Mr. Abraham Behrein.” The address was in Hatton Garden.
He nodded, and the caller was shown in. Behrein was a well-dressed man of dignified appearance. He greeted Jabez with elaborate courtesy.
“I have come to ask a favour, Mr. Crewde,” he began. “I have reason to believe that you had a business transaction yesterday with a lady — a Miss Dove.”
“Well, what of it?” demanded Crewde. “She’s turned twenty-one.”
“Quite so!” said Behrein. “I simply wished to ask if you would allow me to look at the pearls she deposited with you. I am aware that the request is most irregular, but — I have reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“I do not care to name them.”
“Well, that’s an end of it. Certainly not!” snapped Jabez Crewde.
“You refuse?” asked Behrein with an air.
“Of course I do. Grant, this gentleman can’t find the door!”
Jabez Crewde was more than a little disturbed by the incident. Not so Behrein. Behrein got into the taxi that was waiting for him and drove to Scotland Yard.
Here he again presented his card, explained that he was a dealer in precious stones, and stated that he had been robbed. He wished to speak to a responsible official who would take up the case. There was a short delay, at the end of which he was shown into Detective-Inspector Rason’s rooms.
“A short time ago,” explained Behrein to the detective, “I bought a parcel of pearls of an approximate value of fifty thousand pounds. It is a big parcel, Mr. Rason, in these days, and my purchase attracted a certain amount of attention. I had many opportunities of unloading, but I was not in a hurry. A lady, not in the trade, was introduced to me in the belief that she might purchase the entire parcel for her personal use.
“The lady encouraged the belief. She came twice to my office to inspect the pearls and to discuss methods of purchase. Her last visit was on Monday of this week. She was a very pleasant, very well-bred lady, and when I was wanted on the telephone I had no hesitation in leaving her for a moment in possession of the pearls.”
Detective-Inspector Rason grunted. He knew well enough what was coming. An oft-told tale!
“My client,” continued Behrein, “renewed her expressions of approval, said that she had some final financial arrangements to make, and would call upon me in the following week. This morning I wished to show the pearls to another customer — I had not handled them since the visit of the lady — and I find — a parcel of pretty good imitations, worth possibly one hundred and fifty pounds. I cannot, of course, prove anything, but I am certain that the lady in the case made the substitution while I was answering the telephone.”
“Did she give you a name?” asked Rason.
“She gave me the name of Fidelity Dove,” said Behrein, “with an address in Bayswater, which I have no doubt is a false one.”