Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 5, No. 19, November 1944

“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.”

“The address is right enough,” Rason rapped out. “She’s probably waiting for us to call. She’s the coolest crook in London and then some. She never bothers to run away. I’ve been on her track a dozen times and she always manages so that you can’t prove anything. In a way, she’s a great woman.”

“That is not very consoling to one who looks like losing fifty thousand pounds as the result of her ingenuity,” said Behrein bitterly.

“We shall take the matter up, of course,” said Rason.

“Then perhaps I could help you,” said Behrein. “Chiefly by chance, I happen to know that this lady — if it be not absurd so to call her — borrowed money upon the security of pearls from a Mr. Jabez Crewde. I’m quite sure of my facts. Mr. Crewde underpays his staff, and... er—”

“Quite so,” said Rason.

“I was at his house in Islington half an hour ago,” continued Behrein. “I asked, with all civility I hope, to be allowed to look at the pearls. He received my request very ill-temperedly and refused it.”

Detective-Inspector Rason made a note.

“Did you tell him your suspicion?”