The Adventure of the Deverill Diamonds

Ned Burdon stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw me. For half a second I could see that he was completely perplexed, as if he had just encountered a tram making its way down a country road. I could see that he was considering running for it, but then he collected himself and decided to approach me, acting his part to the very end.

“Esther? What on Earth are you doin’ ’ere?” he asked in a jovial voice, as the other passengers made their way around us.

“I’ve come to see you, Mr Burdon. And I’ve come to stop you.”

“Stop me? What you talkin’ about Esther? Stop me from doin’ what?”

“From escaping the country with the Deverill Diamonds,” I stated simply.

He put on his best puzzled expression, laughing down his nose and furrowing his brow in mock confusion.

“You cracked yer ’ead, Esther? I’m off on me ’olidays, Esther. Remember? I did tell ya. You must ’ave forgotten.”

“No, I haven’t forgotten. And I haven’t been cracked on the head, unlike poor Mr Deverill. You made the mistake of telling me which train you were catching and you labelled your luggage with your destination - Zeebrugge. I had to ask Sam what that word meant. Turns out it’s a place. A port in Belgium. From Zeebrugge, a train takes you straight into the heart of Amsterdam, where all the diamond dealers are. Where you can sell the Deverill Diamonds and where no-one is going to ask any awkward questions.”

“My wife ’ad a windfall Esther and we’re off on our ’olidays! Now, if you’ll let me through I’ve got a boat to catch,” he said, pushing my arm and trying to brush past me.

Eddie Holloway suddenly lunged forwards and grabbed Burdon by the scruff of the neck, pushing him against the wall of the waiting room with so much force that Burdon let out a loud involuntary grunt.

“Lay an ’and on ’er again and I’ll ’ave yer eyes..” Holloway scowled menacingly.

Burdon did not move, crushed against the wall as he was, and a glimmer of recognition came into his face, swiftly followed by a look of horror.

“You’re… You’re Eddie ’olloway…” he gulped.

“Yeah, I am,” smiled Holloway. “Can’t we just kill ’im girly and get the stones?” Holloway asked, turning his head to me.

“No!” I protested, suddenly worried about Holloway’s intentions. “We are not killing anyone! I want to talk to him and I want him to hand over the diamonds. Then we go back and you let Sam go. That’s all.”

Holloway looked thoroughly disappointed but, swallowing hard, dropped Burdon from his pinion and took a step backwards.

“Touch ’er again and it’s over for you, copper. Got it?” sneered Holloway. Utter villain though he was, I was rather touched by the protective tone in his voice.

Burdon nodded tentatively, rearranged his crumpled clothing, and stepped away from the wall.

A few of the other passengers had stopped walking towards the exit and were now looking at us in concern. One of the guards in the distance, now knowing everyone at the train station to be in the presence of Eddie Holloway, ran towards them and ushered the bewildered onlookers away from our platform. That left just the three of us, Holloway, Burdon and myself, standing on the gaslit platform as a large clock ticked ominously above us, marking the twists and turns of the drama unfolding below it.

“So,” I went on casually (although my heart was racing in my chest), “where is your wife?”

“She must have come past us in the crowd, Esther,” said Burdon, attempting to smile slightly.

“Unaccompanied?” I scoffed, “That seems unlikely for a drunkard… There was no windfall was there? Your wife hasn’t inherited any money. You bought just the one ticket by pawning one of the diamonds.” I hesitated, dreading the answer to my next question but, eventually knew I had to continue as Burdon was not just going to offer it to me. “Is she still alive? Your wife?”

Burdon clamped his lips tight shut and stood stock still.

“Answer ’er,” growled Holloway.

“Yes,” sighed Burdon reluctantly, “sadly, she’s alive. Laid out on the bed in a stupor, just like every uvver day.”

A wave of relief broke over me at hearing this. That he had tried to kill Mr Deverill, Aunt Cordelia and me but failed was one thing. That he might have succeeded in killing his own wife was quite another.

I tried to collect myself and to stick to the ‘script’ I had carefully thought through on the train. I had to know the answers to everything. To check that I was right and, most importantly, I had to get the diamonds and get them back to Sam without violence erupting between any of us.

“The day I bumped into you coming out of the pawnshop was the day you pawned one of the diamonds wasn’t it?” I asked. He did not answer so I continued, “You fed me a lie about pawning your cufflinks for a few shillings to buy your wife drink. But in truth you had just pawned one of the diamonds at a rock bottom price to fund your little trip abroad, a trip from which you intended never to return.”

The clock ticked remorselessly above us and I counted a full four seconds before Burdon spoke. When he did it was in that same laughing tone that he had already used to no effect.

“This is nonsense, Esther! I don’t know who you’ve been talkin’ to but it’s cobblers! ’Ow could I possibly ’ave coshed the old man? I was outside the door wiv you, wasn’t I? You forgotten that?” he added laughing an empty laugh into the cold night air.

“Let’s do ’im and get the jewels. ‘E’s gettin’ on my wick,” said Holloway, stepping forwards to thrust his face into Burdon’s. His hand reached into his right pocket and my heart leapt into my throat at the thought that he was reaching for a concealed gun or a knife! I ran forwards as quickly as I could.

“No!” I yelled. “We mustn’t! Please! Please Mr Holloway!”

“ ’E’s a dirty copper! And there ain’t nuffink worse than that!” shouted Holloway.

“There are!” I shouted back. “There are a lot of things worse than that!”

“Like what?” he argued.

“Like killing without reason! Like killing without a fair trial! Like killing just because you want to! That’s not the mark of a master criminal! It’s the mark of a coward!” I countered. “And, you’re a lot of things Mr Holloway, but you’re not a coward….”

Eddie Holloway chewed on his twisted lip for a moment that felt like an age. Slowly, very slowly, his right hand retreated from his pocket and he took tiny steps away from Burdon.

“You got ten minutes, girly, and then I want them jewels,” stated Holloway.

I nodded in gratitude and breathed a sigh of relief that no blood had been shed.

“Thank you,” I said to Holloway, before turning my attention once more to Ned Burdon.

“You were asking me how you could have attacked Eugene Deverill, Mr Burdon. I’m happy to tell you the tale, although you know it well enough yourself I’m sure.”

The clock ticked on, oblivious. Burdon was intent on not saying any more, that much was clear. Either I had to speak or nobody would.

“Mr Deverill opened his door to you every Monday morning at 9.30am. If you had visited in an evening or a night-time Mr Deverill would not have let you in. He was suspicious of callers that weren’t his family or that were not prearranged and so you were left without a choice. Your attack on him and your theft of his diamonds had to take place on one of your 9.30 visits. But how could you attack him and get away with it? Everyone would know it was you because of the time of the visit.”

“Didn’t ‘appen. You’re talkin’ outta ya hat. The door was locked. Five locks.”

“So you made me believe. But it all clicked into place for me tonight when… well, when Sam and I were picking a lock of our own…”

Holloway let out a little chuckle of appreciation for our amateur criminal endeavour.

“But it wasn’t locked,” I continued, taking a deep breath before adding, “and nor was Mr Deverill’s room.”

“What!” mocked Burdon, but his eyes flickered and for the briefest of seconds his guard was down. Soon the eyes reset and he was looking nonchalant again. “You were with me when I smashed the door down, Esther.”

“You made sure I was. You had arrived a few minutes early for your check. Mr Deverill let you in, unlocking all five locks to admit you. You went through your routine with him. He removed the diamonds from the safe and brought them over to his desk. He opened the diamond case and, at that moment, you clubbed him around the head as hard as you could several times, until you were satisfied that he was dead. You hid the diamonds on your person and left the room, shutting the door behind you.”

“This is ridiculous…” groaned Burdon, rolling his eyes.

“You shouted as loudly as you could for me and Mrs Gritton. I arrived from below you and you were shocked to see me there. You were expecting me to come down the stairs from above. I took your look to mean you were worried about Mr Deverill but, in truth, you were worried that I might have seen you just leaving Mr Deverill’s room.’

‘It seemed strange to me that you called for me or Mrs Gritton. How could we have been of any help really? Neither Mrs Gritton or I would have been much use in breaking a door down. No, you called for us because you needed a witness. Someone to witness you breaking down the door. Someone to back up your story that the door was locked.’

’I should have been suspicious right from the start. When you told me the door was locked I had reached to turn the handle and you had stopped me forcibly, telling me that you would smash the door down. A man of your physique knocking down a door with five solid locks in it was also very unlikely, but I believed you because…because I trusted you.”

“I did knock it down, Esther. You was worried that I’d ’urt me arm, remember?” asked Burdon, smiling faintly.

“You certainly held your left arm very still by your side. I assumed you had hurt it when you barged down the door, but, when I came to think of it properly, I realised it had been held stiffly by your side before you knocked down the door. And the reason you had to hold it straight was not because you had hurt your arm, but because you were concealing some things up your left sleeve. Things you did not want to leave in Mr Deverill’s room in case I snooped about and found them. Things you thrust up your sleeve and held in place with your fist.”

“What fings?” mocked Burdon.

“A hammer and a chisel, of course.”

“What? Why would I ’ave ’ad them?” he laughed, although he sounded more worried than he had to this point.

“We entered the room, finding the scene that you had set up for us to find,” I went on, pursuing my script, “You sent me away as quickly as you could to fetch a policeman. The moment I was gone from the house you sprung into action. You used the hammer and the chisel to sever the locks from the wall. To make the locks look as if they had been broken by the force of your barging the door down. In my hurry and confusion I had not even looked at the locks as I ran from the room. You counted on that. You stage-managed the room to make sure it supported your story.’

’As soon as you had used your hammer and chisel you had to get rid of them. The little window outside the entrance to Mr Deverill’s room was perfect. You opened it a crack and dropped your tools out of it. Sadly for you, Sam and I came back before you had had the chance to shut the window properly, leaving us our first clue. You ran back into the room as you heard us approaching the house. And Sam and I saw the story you had created for us. The story of a locked room and a heroic attempt to break it down. Your story of an impossible crime.”

“Bleedin’ ell, Esther,” said Holloway appreciatively, “you figured this all out by yerself?”

“No. I did it with Sam. Sam, who you’re currently holding hostage,” I added with a note of hostility in my voice.

“You made it look impossible,” I said, turning my attention to Burdon once more, “to buy you time. Time to sell one of the diamonds and make the necessary arrangements to leave the country. Making it look like the chimney had been the way in and out was convenient for you too. You knew about James Deverill and his chimney-sweeping. You also knew you could throw anyone your line about Leland Deverill and his acrobatics on ship. Two people who could have committed the crime that you could not possibly have committed. My own difficulty in climbing up to the roof showed me how impossible that route was, however. The metal steps up the side of the building were equally unlikely as there was a great chance that an assailant would be seen. Unlikely then to have been either James or Leland in reality.”

“How times ’ave changed, Esther. There was a time when you were on the right side of the law. And now ’ere you are defending the criminal Leland Deverill, with your new best friend, the wanted leader of the Red Razor Gang!” snarled Burdon.

I could see Holloway move his hand towards his right pocket again and I hastily stepped between him and Burdon, saying :

“Of course, some things went wrong for you, despite all your planning. Not just my appearance from the bottom of the stairs, or your leaving the tiny window slightly open, but your real mistake was leaving Mr Deverill for dead, when he wasn’t. The terror on your face when you returned with Inspector Wakefield to see Mr Deverill sitting up talking to Sam and me. I assumed you were worried for your job, having bungled the crime scene, but in fact you were terrified that he had told us who had attacked him.’

’Luck was on your side though. Your attack on Mr Deverill was not enough to kill him, but enough to make him lose his memory. He was taken to the hospital where a guard was put on his door and where you could not get to him. How you must have worried yourself sick that his memory would return and he would implicate you in the crime. Each time I saw you, you looked more and more haggard, as if you hadn’t been sleeping, which you hadn’t of course.”

Burdon applauded sarcastically, his fake smile turning into a genuine sneer.

“And why would I ’ave attacked Mr Deverill, Esther? What reason could I ‘ave for doin’ that?” he leered.

“The pink newspaper and the shoes were the clues that gave you away,” I began, noting his expression change to one of bewilderment, “Your shoes had been resoled. Sam noticed it. On a policeman’s salary you should have been able to afford new shoes. But you had resoled your shoes instead. A sure sign that money was hard to come by. Your house is a house of addiction isn’t it, Mr Burdon? Your wife is addicted to alcohol and you.. you are addicted to gambling.”

“The pink newspaper bein’ the Pink ’Un, girly?” asked Holloway, “The Racing Times?”

“Yes,” I replied with simplicity not taking my eyes off Burdon, “You’ve gambled away your pay on the horses. Your wife drank away what was left. You needed money and you had none. And every week you were summoned to Mr Deverill’s house to look on as the old man retrieved his priceless diamonds from his safe for you to check. Diamonds which Mr Deverill would never part with, diamonds he would never sell, miser as he was, diamonds that were the answer to all your prayers. Diamonds you would kill for.”

“So where are they, Esther?” laughed Burdon. “If I have them, where are they?”

I heard the sound of an arriving train at the neighbouring platform. It hissed loudly and I had to raise my voice to get above the noise.

“You were doing some woodwork the first time I came to your house. Your tools were scattered amidst some sawdust in your front room. Along with one other thing. Your truncheon. The same thing you used to club Mr Deverill around the head was your chosen hiding place for the Deverill Diamonds. You had used your woodwork skills to carve out a recess inside the truncheon. A way of getting the diamonds out of the room. A place where nobody would look.”

Burdon laughed his most callous laugh yet.

“Show us,” growled Holloway, his desire for the diamonds overtaking him as he stepped forwards menacingly. “Show us now.”

Burdon rolled his eyes as if the theory I had put forward were preposterous, but the sight of the advancing Holloway made him sigh in defeat. He flipped his case slowly onto the platform, undid the clasps on the bag and gently tilted open the lid of the case.

It happened in a flash! Burdon’s hand moved with sudden speed, whipping a small pistol from the case and aiming it straight at my head, Holloway yelled and flew through the air towards me, a shot rang out - BANG! - above the hiss of the train and Holloway fell to the platform with a crash and a grunt, dark torrents of blood pouring from him.

I screamed in shock as I saw the body of Holloway hit the ground and begin to writhe in pain.

“Too clever for your own good, Esther. That’s always been yer trouble..” came the venomous whisper of Ned Burdon, over the dying sound of the gunshot.

I looked up from the body of Eddie Holloway to see Burdon smiling at me.

Slowly, so slowly, Burdon closed one eye as he turned his sights on me once more. The gun was pointing squarely at my face. I had failed. I had failed Sam. And I was going to pay for my failure with my life. Eddie Holloway would not return to his den with the diamonds and his gang would murder Sam.

PC Ned Burdon was going to shoot me. The clock ticked on above me counting down the last precious seconds of my life. I was alone. I was unarmed. I was going to die and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.