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

Fidelity’s smile was seraphic.

“All the same,” continued Rason, “I’m taking a pretty keen professional interest in this particular case. I’ve been trying to guess how you’re going to keep out of prison this time, and I’ll admit I’ve clean failed.”

“There is an elusive suggestion of flattery in your words, Mr. Rason,” reproved Fidelity. “And flattery falls strangely on my ears. Let me confess I cannot in the least understand what you are saying.”

“Yesterday morning,” said Rason, with a sigh, “you pledged with Mr. Jabez Crewde pearls which on Monday you are alleged to have stolen by means of substituting false ones from a Mr. Abraham Behrein. Mr. Behrein has photographs of the pearls and expert descriptions. They have been identified as the pearls you pledged with Mr. Crewde.”

“Mr. — what is the name of the other gentleman — Berlein?”

“Behrein,” said Rason. “Are you going to deny knowledge of him, Miss Dove?”

“Yes,” said Fidelity. The word had all the sanctity of a vow.

For a moment there was silence. A look almost of fear flashed into Rason’s eyes.

“May I use your telephone?” he asked.

Fidelity’s little bow gave consent. Rason fluttered the leaves of the telephone book, looked for Behrein, and could not find him. He rang up the Holborn police.

He gave particulars of himself, and then:

“Abraham Behrein,” he said, and gave the address in Hatton Garden. “Send a man at once to verify name and address. ’Phone me here.” There followed Fidelity’s number.

In a quarter of an hour, in which Fidelity spoke gracefully and well of pearls as mentioned in the scriptures, there came the return message. Abraham Behrein was unknown in Hatton Garden.

“And now, Mr. Rason,” asked Fidelity, “are you going to apologize for doubting my word?”

“No,” said Rason. The emphasis of his refusal left Fidelity’s gravity undisturbed until he had left her drawing-room; but as he crossed the magnificent hall silvery laughter followed him and rang in his ears long after he had left the house.

On the next day Mr. Jabez Crewde was severely startled at being told that Fidelity Dove was on the doorstep and wished to see him.

“Show her in, and run for the police,” he whispered to the clerk.

Fidelity came in, gracefully as ever. She inclined her head in the soupçon of a bow.

“Oh, Mr. Crewde!” she said in clear tones. “I do not know how to thank you! The money that you lent me must veritably have been bewitched. The scheme was successful beyond my friend’s wildest dreams. So much money has been made that — is it the firm or his stockbroker? — has advanced on account of my profits all the money I borrowed from you, and I have come to repay you five thousand five hundred pounds.”

“Let’s have a look at it,” said Crewde coarsely.

“But of course I wish you not merely to look at it but to take it,” — and Fidelity laid the notes on the table.

Mr. Crewde counted the notes.

“You can leave those there,” he said, and glanced towards the door. Then, for safety, he picked them up and put them in his pocket. Fidelity looked offended.

“Will you give me a receipt and return my pearls?” she asked.

“We’ll see about that in a minute,” snapped Crewde.

“Against my inclination, I am driven to believe that your manner is intentionally offensive,” said Fidelity. “I will wait no longer. The receipt is of no importance, for my bankers have the numbers of the notes. You will please return the pearls to my private address.”

“Your private address! Yes, I know it — Aylesbury prison it’ll be in a week or two,” jeered Crewde. “As for the pearls, they are back with Mr. Abraham Behrein, whom you stole them from.”

“Oh! How can you—” Fidelity produced a handkerchief.

“Tell it all to the policeman,” invited Mr. Crewde as the clerk returned with a constable.

“What’s all this?” asked the constable.

“That’s the woman you want. Fidelity Dove, she calls herself,” shouted Crewde. “Scotland Yard knows all about her.”

The policeman looked embarrassed.

“Do you give the lady in charge, sir?” he asked.

“No, I don’t give her in charge,” said Crewde. “I’m not going to be mixed up with it. It’s a matter for the Public Prosecutor. Scotland Yard!”

“We’ve no orders to arrest anyone of that name as far as I know,” said the constable. “I can’t take the lady unless you charge her, sir.”

“There is my card, constable,” said Fidelity. “My car is outside if you care to take the number.”

In the car Fidelity drove home.

As soon as she had left, Jabez Crewde telephoned to Scotland Yard. He was put through to Rason, who informed him that all efforts to trace Abraham Behrein had failed.

“It was hoax of some kind, I’m afraid,” said Rason. “But you’re all right, Mr. Crewde. You have the pearls, I take it? It was apparently a swindle that didn’t come off.”

“But she’s paid me back the money I lent her, and wants the pearls back,” protested Crewde.

“Well, I can’t advise you,” said Rason. “But I should have thought the best thing to do would be to give them to her.”