The Adventure of the Deverill Diamonds

The next ten seconds were a blur. We were unceremoniously yanked in the door by Snorky and another man who I recognised from the jetty, hustled down some stairs and thrown into a dank cellar which was locked behind us.

As the door shut we were plunged headlong into pitch darkness, which was so all-encompassing that, even when our eyes adjusted to the darkness, it was still impossible to make out any features of the room.

For the first time since we started investigating this case, I was not scared. I knew that he would come. Eddie Holloway would have to come and see why I had returned to be killed. And then I would be able to explain, and to try and get his help.

“Nice friendly people,” said Sam, by way of a joke, but I could tell from his tone that he was not truly in a humorous mood.

I did not respond. I just stood in silence, listening for the sound of his footsteps. Snorky would have told him I was here by now, he would be asking questions of them and then he would have to come to this room and unlock it. Curiosity would prevent him doing anything else.

A minute passed of listening to the drips of a leaking pipe in the corner of the room and then - I heard them. Footsteps. Lots of footsteps. All coming this way. The door was unlocked and thrown open with a resounding clang. A succession of candle-bearing Red Razor Gang members entered first, followed by the twisted face of Eddie Holloway, menacingly under-lit by a candlestick which he clutched in his powerful fist.

“You’ve got guts, girly. You really have,” he rasped in that cheese-grating voice of his, his eyes narrow and his scar throwing shadows on his left cheek.

“We’ve come here to ask you to help us,” I said before he could speak again. “To help us to catch a criminal.”

A slight pause and then he let out a hoarse laugh. The gang, as ever, sycophantically followed his lead.

“And which criminal might that be, girly? Not me I ’ope.”

“No. Not you. Not yet anyway. This criminal is the thief who stole the Deverill Diamonds.”

The laughter stopped instantaneously. Holloway’s narrow eyes widened fractionally.

“Diamonds?….” His eyes sparkled with pleasure and greed. There was a momentary pause while he savoured the idea of the diamonds and then his attention snapped back to me as he said, “You’ve cracked the case then ’ave ya, Esther?”

“Yes,” I said, noting the use of my Christian name, “We have. This is Sam Wiggins. We’ve worked together and solved it.”

Holloway gently inclined his head in that birdlike manner he had to inspect Sam’s face. He looked him up and down with contemptuous indifference, as if Sam were nothing more than a small house spider waiting to be squished and then he returned his attention to me.

“So what’s that gotta do wiv me?”

“The thief is currently making their way to Dover, to escape to Holland and to sell the diamonds. The value of the diamonds is £100,000.”

Holloway let out a low whistle of astonishment at this statement of the diamonds’ value.

“When we… well, when we met last,” I continued, “you said that my father - Ulysses Morstan-Eyre was corrupt. You said he arrested thousands of people on trumped up charges. And that there was nothing you hated more than corruption in the law.”

“Yeah. Thass right,” he scowled, those eyes of his narrowing again. “Don’t tell me ya Daddy nicked the diamonds?” he chuckled, “Now that I would like to ’ear!”

I shook my head. “No, but it was someone just as corrupt.” (I am omitting other things I said concerning the identity of X, but don’t worry, at the end of this chapter you will finally know who it is!)

I continued, “We have a chance to stop them. You bragged to me that you had a network of trains, boats, carriages. That you could get anywhere faster than anyone. And we need to get to Dover,” there was real urgency in my voice now, “We must get to Dover if we’re to stop the thief before they leave the country forever!”

Holloway took a tiny step back, thinking it all through, his brow knitted and his nostrils flaring as he heaved breath down them.

“Snorky, you’re in charge ‘ere. Me and Esther are goin’ on a little trip. Gonna get meself some diamonds. Get Billy to bring the six-horse cart round.”

“But Boss!” exclaimed Burrell in protest.

In a flash Holloway crunched his fist into Burrell’s face, sending him flying to the ground.

“Snorky,” he continued as if nothing had happened, “you’re in charge. Keep an eye on fings ‘ere. Includin’ ’im.”

He pointed his finger. It took me a full two seconds that he did not mean Burrell, but Sam!

“No!” I yelled.

“That’s the deal, Esther,” snarled Holloway as Burrell picked himself back off the ground, “Your friend stays ’ere ; we both come back safe and sound by dawn and he lives. If we don’t come back by sun up or if you come back alone then Snorky kills him.”

“But… but…” I floundered.

“You witnessed my little opium deal with Leland, Esther. ’Ow do I know I can trust ya? ’Ow do I know who you’ve blabbed to? If we get the thief and the diamonds, then I trust ya and ya can both go free. If we don’t and you’ve lied to me you’ll both be dead before ya can say ‘Jack Robinson’”

I had not foreseen this! I had always assumed that Holloway would take us both along with him. I never thought for a moment that he might use Sam as a threat against me! As bait to make sure we returned!

I looked at Sam, his face half-illuminated in the flickering candlelight. It was Sam, Sam who had been my friend, Sam who had rescued me, Sam who I had convinced into this reckless action - Sam who would die if I failed. I could not do it. Better that we failed to catch X than that I lost Sam.

I opened my mouth to reject Holloway’s ‘offer’..

“Agreed,” said Sam suddenly. “You got a deal, Holloway.”

“No, Sam!” I blurted.

“You can do it Esther. You’ll catch him. And you’ll be back by the dawn. I trust ya,” said Sam simply, adding “but if ya don’t go soon then ’e’ll get away and we will ’ave failed. And I don’t want us to fail. We’ve come all this way togevver. Just this once, one of us can do it alone.”

I smiled at him and he half-smiled back.

“We’ll be back by the dawn, you have my word” I assured him, turning to Holloway to make the terrible pact, for good or for ill. To make my pact with a known criminal. To make my pact with the twisted serpent.

“Deal,” I said, and I reached out to shake the serpent’s hand.

Within minutes I had left Sam behind me, as Holloway and I sped through the night in the fastest carriage I have ever travelled in. Holloway’s six horses rode like they would never tire as they charged through the London streets en route to Southwark station, where we would catch a train to Dover. How that train would be faster than the boat train I had no idea. X had a considerable head start on us and I was terrified that I would not be able to deliver on the deal I had just made.

I clamped my mouth shut as soon as we were in the carriage, determined that I would not make small talk with the vile criminal beside me, even if he was helping me. I had no desire to talk to someone who could engage in such a low trade as drug-smuggling and who would cheerfully kill to protect their interests.

Only twice did Holloway attempt to make idle conversation. I ignored him both times and he soon got the idea that I would rather have a long conversation with the back end of a horse than exchange one word with him.

Fifteen minutes passed in aching slowness before we arrived at Southwark station. Holloway jumped down from the carriage and I followed, still unsure how we were meant to get to Dover in time.

I was not unsure for long.

As soon as we were in the station I noticed that Holloway walked through the place like a returning king back from battle amidst rumours that he had been dead for five long years. The porters, the station master, the guards all doffed their caps to him, pretending (so I thought) to be beside themselves with delight to see him.

He made his way to the ticket office and barked at the man behind the grill.

“Train to Dover?”

“Yes, Mr Holloway,” the man grovelled, “leaving from platform three in four minutes.”

Holloway did not stop to thank the man. He walked away from the ticket office as fast as he could and down towards platform three, with me in his wake, like a puppy at his heel.

The evening was exceedingly cold and my arms were all goose-flesh by the time we reached the bottom of the stairs. We arrived on platform three to see the gleaming Dover train puffing out clouds of smoke. The train was full with passengers, all getting ready for a relaxed ride to the coast. There was nowhere for us to sit! And we did not even have tickets! All was lost!

Holloway marched straight up to the guard who was readying his flag in preparation for the train leaving. As soon as the guard clocked Holloway he immediately froze.

“Mr…. Holloway, sir?” the man simpered anxiously.

“Me and the girl need to get to Dover,” rasped Holloway.

“Of course, sir.”

“When we get there, turn the engine ’round and get ready to come back.”

“Of course, Mr Holloway.”

I was completely bewildered by this exchange. What on Earth was going on?

The guard ran down to the engine and exchanged frantic words with the driver. Then he ran back and, opening the nearest carriage door, he jumped up onto the train. I could dimly hear his voice amidst the occasional bursts of steam from the engine’s funnel.

“I’m sorry, Ladies and Gentlemen, this train has been found unfit for service and will not be able to transport you this evening.” Groans from several passengers. “We are moving it out of the platform and into the service yard. You will, I’m afraid, have to wait for the next train to Dover, which is in an hour and a half. We apologise for the inconvenience.”

And then, in reluctant and angry droves, all the passengers collected their hand luggage and started filing off the train and down onto the cold, draughty platform. I could not believe my eyes. Fear of the name of Eddie Holloway and the Red Razor Gang was enough to cancel a train, to send over a hundred people out into the freezing cold, and to commission a train for two passengers to the location of his choice. My jaw fell open and it was a full minute before I managed to shut it again.

As soon as the train was empty, Holloway jumped on the train and beckoned me to follow him. For a moment I thought about protesting on behalf of the poor passengers, now stranded until the next train, but then the thought of the danger Sam was in pressed me to step on with him.

Holloway and I sat opposite one another in a completely deserted carriage and, within seconds, a whistle was blown and the train set off into the night, going faster than any train I had ever travelled on and leaving behind a group of frustrated and bewildered would-be passengers. We would not be stopping at any of the stations between London and Dover, unlike the boat train, so we were sure to get there first! What power did this man have to be able to commandeer an entire train just for himself ? I knew the answer of course. It was not power, but terror. Everyone in that station, from the ticket seller to the station master was scared of him, and especially scared of what he and his gang would do to them if they did not obey his every whim. The thought of that sickened me and I was repulsed by the knife-scarred man across the table from me.

As we rattled our way through the environs of London I maintained a total silence, looking out of the window and avoiding Holloway’s occasional gazes in my direction.

It was when we reached the countryside that he tried to speak to me again.

“Don’t like me much, girly, do ya?”

I bit my lip and ignored the question.

“Tryin’ to understand why,” he said.

My temper snapped and I was unable to control myself.

“Why! Well, let’s see, shall we? You tried to have me killed by Leland Deverill, you smuggled opium into this country, ruining innocent people’s lives, and now you’re holding my best friend hostage!”

There was the tiniest of pauses before he responded.

“But, other than that?”

And then he laughed. That husky, gravelly laugh of his. He obviously found himself very funny indeed. I was unimpressed.

“You see, Esther,” he went on, much to my annoyance, “you gotta learn to see business as a separate fing. Me tryin’ to ‘ave you killed, doin’ me drug deals, ‘oldin’ young Sam in a cellar - all business. Nuffink personal.”

I snorted down my nostrils in contempt.

“I learnt when I was a nipper not to confused the personal and the business. It’s a lesson you learn on the streets.”

“Rubbish,” I retorted. “Sam’s lived on the streets all his life and he’s nothing like you!”

He laughed again.

“I do like ya, Esther. Good job innit ? I wouldn’t normally let no-one talk to me the way you are now, but you’re an exception. ’Cause you got guts.”

“I’ve certainly got more guts than you, that’s for certain,” I spat, “You’re only coming with me to get your hands on the diamonds for yourself. You’ve certainly no interest in returning them to the person they belong to. The thought of risking your own neck for someone else would never even enter your head, I’m sure!”

Again he laughed, but, I noted, with less certainty than before.

“Trouble wiv you, Esther, you was born wiv a silver spoon in yer mouth. With dear old Ulysses Morstan-Eyre as your Daddy you wasn’t exactly gonna struggle tho, was ya? Then there’s me, never known me Mum or Dad…”

I cut across him, outrage and distaste in my voice in equal measure.

“That is the most pathetic excuse for acting the way you do,” I snapped. “When you were a child it was excusable that you’d turn to crime, because you had no-one else to care for you. But now you’re a grown man so that excuse won’t wash!”

I was absolutely indignant now and I could not stop myself from blurting out more.

“For the record, Ulysses Morstan-Eyre is not my real Father. He adopted me unwillingly when he found me wandering the streets after my real mother and father died when I was an infant. His wife was the one who wanted me, he did not. When she also died, he kept me on unwillingly and he and his sister have mistreated me and beaten me every day since then. Do I act like you do? No! So please don’t tell me your tale of woe! You act the way you do because it pleases you to do so, because you have a natural urge to behave like a villain and because you don’t have the strength of character to fight that urge!”

He looked dumbstruck. Clearly, no-one had ever spoken to him as I just had. For a moment I was scared that my big mouth and I had jeopardised our mission and put Sam’s life in even more danger. But the moment passed in silence and his features eventually reset. He sat back in his chair and he looked out of the window, watching the Kent countryside rushing past in a blur.

I sat back in my own chair, my heart still pounding and my cheeks still flushed from my outburst.

He never looked back at me from the window. He was lost in his own thoughts, in his own dark brooding. What his thoughts were I could not even begin to guess. A cloud had descended over him and, try as he might, he could not shake it off. He did not try to speak to me again for the rest of the journey.

For my part, although a strange feeling of guilt was lapping at my shores over what I had just said, I thought through everything I was going to say to X. I was thinking through all the details of the case and putting them in order. When the moment came I knew I had to have all my facts straight.

The rest of the journey passed in silent thought until, with the squeal of the brakes, we slowed by degrees as we pulled into Dover station. The platform was busy and everyone looked surprised to see an almost completely empty train pulling in way ahead of time. Passengers looked up bewildered and guards frantically checked their watches, baffled by the steaming engine before them.

Without a word Holloway and I stood and made our way off the train, down onto the platform. The air was even colder here than it had been in London and I shivered in Sam’s clothes. Some of the confused guards approached the engine, to make their enquiries as to why this train was so early and so empty. I wondered what the engine driver would say to them. Did Holloway’s vile influence extend this far south? Probably.

It was only a matter of moments of my chewing this over when we heard a guard’s voice from a neighbouring platform announcing the arrival of the boat train! We had arrived in the nick of time! By a miracle we had got here! I could catch X! I could reclaim the diamonds! I could save Sam!

We ran across to the next platform where the engine of the boat train was just pulling into the station, huffing and puffing like a dragon with terrible bronchitis. The rest of the train followed, the brakes screeching as it slowed to a complete halt.

Train doors were being opened and a steady stream of passengers got off. I craned my neck, desperate to see the person I knew was on the train. Lost amidst a hundred other people all brushing past me on their way to the boats that would take them on I was scared witless that I would not be able to see X. I lifted my head up as far as I could, looking up and down the train, desperately hoping to catch just a glimpse of the face I knew well.

And suddenly, I saw that one face in the sea of a hundred others.

The sunken eyes, the thin arms, the pinched nose, the sallow cheeks…

Walking towards us, without a care in the world, came the criminal we had come here to find.. The dastardly X.

Walking towards us, with his labelled case swinging cheerfully in his hand, was :

Police Constable Ned Burdon.