THE STORY OF THE OCCUPANT OF THE SECOND CELL

"An interesting narrative," was the comment of the visitor when the Governor finished his tale, "but David Fleming was obviously a man of low intelligence or he would not now be in the cell of your prison. His wife made the error that brought them both to gaol—at least I presume she also is now in a cell."

"She is, but not under my charge, of course," said the Governor in reply. "Now, had you been in David Fleming's place, could you have foreseen, do you think, the small item that led to their undoing?"

"I am certain that any man of ordinary common sense would have avoided the pitfall," smiled the visitor. "It is fatal to trust a woman."

"There may be something in what you say," rejoined the Governor. "You have the historic case of Antony and Cleopatra on your side. But generalisations do not always apply. It is curious that you should have mentioned that point, because it is the very one that influenced the actions of John Dennison."

"Who is John Dennison?"

"In order to know John Dennison," said the Governor, "you must hear the story of the occupant of the second cell, which I shall have pleasure in relating to you now."

Imagine yourself (continued the Governor) in a certain jewellery shop in the West End of London just after closing time. It is the custom in most warehouses of this description to take all the goods from the windows and lock them up in the safe every night, and Dennison and another salesman were engaged in this duty.

"One claw diamond ring—£1,000!" called Dennison, as he stood in front of the safe, holding a tray of jewellery.

"One claw diamond ring—£1,000," repeated his fellow-assistant, who bent over a stock sheet at the counter.

"One necklace—£300!" called John.

The checker repeated the words, and ticked the item off.

The manager, from the back office, watched the two assistants at their work. The shop was closed, the front door bolted and locked, the iron fence padlocked across the plate glass windows. All the other hands had gone home, and Dennison and his fellow-salesman were taking the valuable goods from the window and putting them in the safe. This was Dennison's job—to carry the trays from the window and deposit them in the safe. While he called out the contents of the trays and the prices his helper checked each article off from a list. This occurred twice daily—in the morning, when the goods were taken from the safe to be displayed in the windows, and in the evening, when they were returned to the safe.

Under such conditions one would think a robbery impossible. John Dennison did not think so. He was robbing the firm under the manager's nose.

Dennison was given the job of handling the trays because he was the man who, next to the manager, best knew jewels. He could value stones at a glance. He could detect a flaw in pearls before the average salesman was able to recognise that a flaw was present. For over a year he had held the position with this firm in the West End. For over a year he had been using his brains towards one end—the idea of the robbery.

"One brooch, Burma ruby—£450," he called.

"Completion of trays!"

He stepped towards the door of the large safe as the checker droned his reply. John Dennison's long, thin fingers moved across the tray as he placed it on the shelf, the brooch was lifted and dropped inside his coat cuff. It was the work of an instant, showing no more than the flash of a hand. A second later he drew his handkerchief from his sleeve, holding it tightly as he dabbed his brow; then he put it into his coat pocket. The brooch now lay under the handkerchief, beside the necklace, the claw ring, and several other articles he had extracted from the trays in exactly the same way.

"That's all, sir," he said to the manager.

The manager nodded. John Dennison put his weight on the safe door to close it. He heard the lock click into position. This made him perfectly satisfied, for only someone who knew the combination could open the door again, and the manager, who was the only person in the shop who knew it, already had his hat on his head and was pulling on his gloves.

Dennison took the sheet of foolscap from the checker and laid it on the manager's desk. The manager dropped it into a drawer and turned the key. The list would not see daylight until the next morning. Dennison bade the manager good night and went out, with his assistant, by the side door. At the corner of the street he bought a newspaper and scanned it casually. He was not interested in the news, but he was waiting to see that the manager left the shop, and he was content when the manager emerged immediately and entered the car that was waiting for him.

Dennison did not go straight home, though he knew his wife was eagerly waiting for him. His next move was proof of the extreme care with which he had built up the fabric of the crime that was to leave no clue. First he went to a shop and bought a cheap, small, metal attaché-case. He then went by bus to Richmond. At Richmond he hired a skiff and rowed a considerable distance up the river.

It was almost dark by this time. It was completely dark when he reached a spot he had previously selected for his cache. Along the river-bank was a row of wooden piles. Dennison went ashore and searched for a heavy stone. This he took into the boat with him and pushed off into mid-stream. He anchored there.

Wrapping his stolen goods in the newspaper, he put them into the case and bound it firmly with a roll of blind-cord which he had brought with him. On the top of the closed case he bound the stone, leaving plenty of cord free to take to the bank. He slipped the case over the side of his boat and paid out the cord until the case was at the bottom of the river. Then he rowed ashore, letting the slack cord run out as he rowed. Round one of the wooden piles he cast a wide noose, and, having used another stone as a sinker, he dropped the noose into the water and watched it disappear.

After this was done he rowed back to Richmond, paid for the hire of the boat, and went home.

It was late when he reached the flat where he and his wife lived. She met him as he opened the door.

"Ted Hughes has been here all evening," she said. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, it's all right. Glad to see you, Ted."

A young man about his own age had come from the sitting-room to greet him.

"We expected you at the usual time," he said.

"Kitty was getting anxious. I wanted to take her out to a show."

Dennison shrugged his shoulders, grinning.

"Sorry to upset your evening. You may go now, if it isn't too late."

"Won't you come with us, John?" asked his wife.

"Me? No. I'm not a gay bird like Hughes. I'm not keen on shows."

She pulled off her cloak and flung it in a chair.

"It's late. I'll not go to-night."

Dennison turned to Hughes with a smile.

"Come round again, Ted, and take her out."

Hughes nodded, and took his leave reluctantly. As soon as the door closed, Dennison slumped into a chair.

"There's nearly ten thousand pounds' worth in this haul, Kitty. When I say 'Go,' prepare to come out of England."

"John, have you got it?"

"Not here. Hidden."

"Of course; but where?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Keep to your department, Kitty."

"Why not tell me? You always keep me in the dark! It isn't fair!"

"Adam went wrong when he trusted too much to Eve. I'm not making the same mistake. You know our methods."

She glanced sulkily at him and turned away, but he caught her arm.

"Look here, Kitty. There may be inquiries. There may be searches. Maybe the cops will come here. They'll be sure to watch, anyway. They have ways of frightening women. I don't want you to blurt out anything under excitement. That's what the cops aim for. If you don't know anything, you can say so and stick to it."

"You will be careful when you sell the stuff?"

"Ted Hughes will do the carrying for me, as usual. I'll explain to him in time where to find the goods. If he's nabbed, it's up to him. The great thing is to keep suspicion away from us."

"You're sure of yourself—as usual?"

"Oh, I'm all right. I can trust myself. I gave notice to the manager to-day. I leave in a month."

"But if Hughes is caught and gives you away?"

"He daren't. I'd kill anyone who gave me away. Hughes knows that."

"Me too?" she asked, with a curled lip.

"I suppose so," he answered quietly. "Why not?"

They went to bed without another word.

There was this to be said for John Dennison—he was remorselessly cool. The theft at the shop was not his first lapse into crime by any means. He had never been caught in any of his previous escapades, so that the police did not have his finger-prints or his photograph. His career had been one of implacable accuracy. He had always covered himself by using other individuals, and he always saw to it that the other individuals were encompassed in the toils of the net he spread. For himself he always left a loophole.

In South Africa he had been an I.D.B.—which means that he had been an illicit diamond buyer. The workers in the mines had been his tools, taking the risks and accepting his percentage. It was there he had learned the value of stones.

He had come to London on the tracks of stones he wished to possess. He had used his wife to find them. It was she who had gone through every fashionable shop until she was able to direct him to the store in which he was now engaged as an assistant. It was she who had made friends with Ted Hughes, who was then a salesman in the shop. Bit by bit she had led Hughes on, fascinating him, alluring him, ultimately destroying him, so that he was discharged from his post.

All this time John Dennison had kept in the background. When Hughes was discharged, he had applied for the post, armed with credentials from diamond men in South Africa, had been willing to find the security the firm demanded, and had secured the position. It was worth while depositing a hundred or two pounds to be inside such premises.

While he worked at the shop his wife had played her part. She had not thrown Hughes over. She had retained him, according to plan. His infatuation was deepened by the loyalty she displayed in his misfortune. He became a hanger-on on the fringe of the trade, and a friend of John Dennison as well as an admirer of John Dennison's wife. He knew London. He went with Kitty Dennison to dance-clubs. Her husband did not object. It was all in the plan.

There was little to choose between this strange pair of criminals, this husband and wife who worked from different angles towards a common goal. Both played their parts independent of the other. Both retained a peculiar individuality of action. Both were equally deserving of punishment. The only bond between them was their marriage certificate.

The life in London attracted her. She found all that she, as a woman, desired, just as her husband found all that he, as a diamond thief, desired. The dance-clubs did not interest him, but they interested her. She liked gaiety, and Hughes was able to show her where it was to be had. He strove to please her. He succeeded, but at a cost he did not then realise. For her part, she was so used to being directed by the cold, intense implacability of her husband that she found in the society of Hughes a bath of pleasure. She went about with him without restraint. John Dennison watched, and waited.

Gradually Hughes became financially overwhelmed. He had been led out of his depth. His discharge from his position constantly rankled as an injustice. Resentment breeds revenge. The time was ripe for a coup. Dennison sounded him. Hughes, desperate and in debt, was willing to do what Hughes, solvent, would never have dreamed of doing. He was prepared to be a seller of stolen property. He was introduced to "receivers."

Dennison tested him with small stuff at first. All that was asked of Hughes was that he went to a spot, found a parcel, and took it to an address. He did not even know the contents of the parcel. A day later he received his share of the proceeds from Dennison. He believed he was dealing with smuggled diamonds.

Thus it was that John Dennison was a criminal, but was safe even under police observation. It was Hughes who faced the accusing law. If Hughes was caught, Dennison was ready to prove that he was guilty of nothing more than a passing friendship with him. Not once had he discussed the shop with Hughes, though he was aware that Hughes knew the combination of the safe. Knowledge of the lock was nothing to Dennison. He was not a burglar.

In the present case he was content to wait long enough to allay suspicion. He held the winning card.

The robbery was discovered when the manager came to the shop the next morning and opened the safe. The shock sent a thrill through the establishment. The police were called. Detectives came. They examined the premises, the safe door, the locks and bars of the shop entrance. They could make nothing of it.

The manager was able to show that the goods had been put in the safe as usual. He had seen Dennison and the other assistant take them from the window. He had seen the safe closed. He had tested the lock before he left the premises. His finger-prints, and those of Dennison, were still on the safe door. Who knew the combination? Not an assistant save the head salesman, who had been gone before the trays were taken out of the window, and the manager himself, who was, of course, above suspicion.

The detectives hovered about the shop all day. Others came, examined, and went away. The manager spent most of his time being interviewed by them in his office. The end was that all agreed it was a mystery, a classic crime. John Dennison had done what every thief, every burglar, every criminal, dreams of doing—he had robbed, and obliterated his trail completely. This was a tribute to his daring as well as to his skill.

But John Dennison was not content with this. He went one better. He aided the detectives. It was he who supplied them with a clue. Under his counter he discovered a skeleton key and a small jemmy. He bore them in triumph to the manager.

The detectives surged round him as he explained how he had come across them when he was looking for a polishing-brush. He did not explain that he had slipped the articles from his sleeve as he stooped towards the floor!

Why had Dennison given the detectives this clue? Obviously because he knew the working of the official mind. If no clue was available, they would come to the conclusion that this was an "inside" job, that it had been carried out by someone within the shop. The key and the jemmy supplied them with something to investigate while he made his preparations for escape.

While the detectives were busy examining the jemmy and the key, other investigators came—the insurance people. Two experts came to represent their interests. One of these two, a tall, thin man with dreamy eyes, looked at the safe for a long time. The manager explained everything in detail. The tall, thin man listened attentively. He examined the jemmy and the key, fitted it into the lock of the side door, cast his eyes on the ceiling, the cellar trap-door, the cabinets ranged along the walls.

"A clever theft," he murmured.

He joined the other detectives, who were comparing notes. They took away the key and the jemmy, and the excitement died down in the routine of the shop duties.

That night when John Dennison went home he told his wife to advance the next step in his scheme.

"Book passages for Cape Town on the ship sailing the day after I finish with the firm. Give any name except our own."

"Everything all right, John?"

"Everything."

She did not go out that evening, but remained content beside him, listening to the wireless.

Dennison went about his business as usual. Every evening for a week he asked the same question as he hung up his hat in the hall.

"Anybody been here?"

"Nobody."

During the second week his question changed.

"Seen Hughes to-day?"

"No."

During the third week the query was:

"Going out to-night?"

The answer remained the same:

"No."

One morning a few days before he was due to leave the shop he looked up from his breakfast.

"Kitty, I'll want Hughes soon."

"Well?"

"You'd better tell him so."

"I haven't seen him for some time."

"You haven't quarrelled?"

There was a challenge and a menace in his swiftly raised voice.

"No."

"You've been keeping indoors a lot of late. Hasn't he been asking you out to shows?"

"No."

"You've got to bring him along. I need him—for the last time."

"I told him not to call again, John."

"What?"

"I told him not to come for me."

"Why?"

She looked at him strangely, biting her lip. There was a trace of nervousness in her tone as she answered:

"I didn't want him to come. He told me the last time I saw him that he loved me."

Dennison threw back his head and laughed.

"Well, what about that? I knew he was infatuated. I'm not blind, but it's all in the game, isn't it? You've got to keep it up with him, as you've done with others. We're leaving London soon. Better send a note asking him to come and take you out. He has to pick up a parcel for me——"

"The diamonds you took from the shop?"

"Sure."

"Is it safe now?"

"The insurance people have paid. That's good enough."

"Then why worry about Hughes? Tell me where it is, and I'll get the stuff——"

"And deliver it to the fence? Not at all, Kitty. Cops sometimes hang round fences' homes. I won't expose you to risk. Your job is to bring Hughes here. The money will be sent to us on board the ship by special messenger, after Hughes delivers the loot."

She pouted, eyeing him in a way that showed she felt hurt.

"John, why don't you let me into the secret? I'm not a baby. You seem to be almost inhuman at times, keeping everything locked up inside you. You just use people like pawns. Why can't you be like Hughes—nice and sociable——"

"It is because Hughes is nice and sociable that he is aiding us, Kitty. Hughes is part of my plan. He is necessary to side-track suspicion. I'll tell you where I hid the stuff when we are away, but not now. In the meantime it's your job to be nice to Hughes. I expect to meet him here this evening. We leave in about twenty-four hours."

"Why not write to him yourself?"

"He'll come quicker to see you, and letters may be used as evidence."

His eye travelled to the telephone on the hall table.

"He's not on the 'phone, and I'd hesitate to use it, anyway. You never know who's tapping the line. We'll keep that for emergency, Kitty. Hughes has got to deliver the loot at once; then you may have a last outing with him—but don't tell him it's the last!"

"You want me to go out with him to-night?"

"I do; after he has delivered the goods he can join you at the dance-club. He'll work swiftly to get there, and, as he'll be paid by the fence, he'll have money to burn. I'll pack up while you are away. Hughes will report progress to you, and you to me on your return."

He noticed an anxious look in her eyes as he went off to his work. This was his last day at the shop.

Ted Hughes was at the flat when Dennison returned in the evening. Kitty was dressing, and kept to her room while the two men talked, and, as soon as everything was arranged, she and Hughes departed. Dennison began to pack.

He reckoned that by the following midday he and Kitty would be aboard the liner. Hughes would not know they had gone from the furnished flat until he called one day to find it empty of tenants. Swift action was the keynote of Dennison's plans. Hit and run! Sell and vanish! No trail was ever left behind.

He finished packing, and sat down to wait for his wife's return. Reviewing the situation, he decided that he had managed it rather well. Kitty would be able to tell him when she came back how Hughes had succeeded. He had parted from the manager of the shop on very friendly terms. His excuse for leaving was that he was going to America. There had been no hint or mention of the robbery, which had become history—unexplained, if not forgotten, history.

There was only one point on which he was not quite satisfied. He wondered why Kitty had mentioned to him that Hughes had fallen in love with her. He considered this carefully. The fact that Hughes was infatuated with her did not disturb him. Other men had been infatuated. But the fact that she had allowed him to fall seriously in love with her was unusual, for she had hitherto played her part with the joyous daring of irresponsibility. Was it possible that she had become attached to Hughes because he was "nice and sociable"? Thinking all this out in cold blood, John Dennison, for the first time in his life, experienced a pang of jealousy.

He became restless as the hours passed. Midnight came and went. One o'clock struck. Two. Three. Four. Daylight broke. The city began to awaken to life. John Dennison watched the clock steal hour after hour from him. He gnashed his teeth and beat his hands together. But still his wife did not come.

He was at his wits' end by breakfast-time. He was sleepless, haggard, red-eyed. Yet he was helpless until Kitty arrived. For want of something to do, he made himself a cup of coffee on the gas stove in the kitchen. He was drinking the coffee when the door knocker thudded.

He knew this was not his wife, for she had a latchkey. He went to the door, opening it cautiously. Facing him was the tall, thin detective who had represented the insurance company.

"Can I have a word with you, Mr. Dennison?"

Before Dennison could answer, the man strode into the hall.

"I saw your light on early in the morning. I suppose you are waiting for your wife?"

"What is that to you?"

"Well, I don't expect you'll see her again. I am a private detective, Mr. Dennison. I was engaged on the robbery at the shop, and in the course of my duties I had to keep an eye on you and your wife. Are you aware that she has been friendly with, and is now running off with, a man named Hughes? I considered it my duty to tell you. I have discovered they are leaving the country as Mr. and Mrs. Hughes——"

John Dennison saw red in that moment.

"How do you know?" he demanded hoarsely.

"I have watched your wife's movements."

Dennison blazed.

"They've turned on me!" he cried in wrath. "She's gone off with him because he was nice and sociable! They've taken the swag!"

He threw his hands above his head savagely.

"I'll give you no trouble. I confess everything! But I'm confessing so that you may beat Hughes and her! They mustn't get away with it! It was I who took the diamonds. Hughes was the carrier. I'll tell the whole story if you catch them. We are all in it—the three of us——What are you staring at? You're losing time instead of getting after them!"

The telephone bell tinkled in the hall. He leaped for it, the detective at his heels, but he waved the man back. The receiver was already at his ear. Someone was calling him. It was his wife's voice.

"Hullo, John! It's me—Kitty! I didn't come home last night because a detective was on my heels. I've seen him hanging about before, but I gave him the slip and came to this hotel. I didn't dare telephone you, in case he was tapping the line, but this morning I slipped out the back way. Hughes found the loot and delivered it safely. We've just time to catch the boat-train. I'll meet you at the station. You'll find the passage tickets in my dressing-case. I had them made out in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Hughes——"

John Dennison dropped the receiver and sagged into a chair.

The detective, who represented the insurance company, was watching him; and the look on the man's face told John Dennison that he had beaten himself. His unfounded jealousy had made him say too much, and the passage tickets were not any use to him, nor to the wife who was above suspicion.

It had proved disastrous to him not to trust a woman.