Read Online SV - 01 - Sergeant Verity and the Cracksman by Francis Selwyn - Free Book Online
Authors: Francis Selwyn
Tags: Crime, Historical Novel
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the sum of money whi ch you lost in Mr Hudson's railway-share swindle.'"
"Oh," said Cazamian, as if surprised, but without being pleased.
"That's justice, ain't it, old chap?" said Dacre peevishly.
"Oh, it is, sir," said Cazamian, taking the opposite chair. "But that ain't it. Don't you know how they carry diamonds and bullion?"
"You tell me, old fellow."
Cazamian shrugged.
"It all comes in heavy wooden bullion-boxes with iron bands round them. Each box is locked, of course, and the bullion shipper stamps his own seal on the wax over the lock. The boxes arrive in the afternoon by a special wagon. The station master, with the railway police, meets them and takes them to his office to be weighed. When that's done, he and the policemen walk beside the boxes while they are wheeled to the tidal train. In the guard's van is an iron safe, made by Chubb, and the tool don't exist as would crack that. It has two locks, the station master has the key for one and the constable has the key for the other. One can't open it on his own. The guard stays in the van with it until the train gets to Folkestone. We only stop once, at Reigate. The safe comes out at Folkestone and two or three of the railway constables there stands over it on the pier until it comes to be put on the Boulogne steamer. On the steamer there's a double guard from our company and the Frenchies. Once it lands again, the agents of the two companies take it through their customs and sit with it all the way until it gets opened in Paris."
"Good," said Dacre, nodding.
"Good? It's anything but good, sir ! Even if you could get near the safe, the tool ain't made that would force that lock." Dacre nodded his agreement.
"And," continued Cazamian, "you ain't going to get the proper keys unless the station master and the police gives them to you. And even if they did, and you could open the safe, there's the bullion-boxes, which are locked and bound. Why, you might force the locks and the iron bands, but there ain't any way you could replace the seal without the bullion merchant kindly lending you his stamp. The jig would be up as soon as someone so much as looked at the boxes."
Dacre contemplated the cherry-red tip of his cigar.
"And that ain't the lot," said Cazamian decisively, "a-cos even if you was to do all that, they'd catch you with the weighing."
"Weighing?"
"They always do it somewhere, though not usually the same place twice running. They weigh the bullion-boxes to make sure that the weight ain't altered since London Bridge. If one box were to weigh different, the jig would be up."
Dacre smiled.
"Splendid I" he said. "Superb ! "
"Is it still a runner, then?" asked Cazamian incredulously. "Oh, my dear fellow, this one is no t only a runner, it's a winner! "
There was a pause, during which Dacre's enthusiasm quietened. He stood up with his thin, pale face a mask of formality once more, in its frame of neat blond whiskers. His voice was dispassionate again.
"You won't see me again, Cazamian, until we meet on the train, when I shall take back what belongs to me. Roper will tell you whatever else you need to know. In a day or two, he will also return the duplicate key of the luggage office to you."
"And when you've got your jewel back?" asked Cazamian hopefully.
"You shall have your reward, never fear. However, for the time being ..."
Dacre opened his notecase and handed Cazamian a sheet of paper.
Received from Charles Baptist Cazamian, Esquire, the sum of forty guineas, in full and complete discharge of all monies owed to me, and interest thereon, and June, 1857 . Edward Roper.
"Gesture of good faith," said Dacre. "Your debt is settled. But cross Ned Roper and he'll still have your neck, broken for you."
"Never!" said Cazamian, his hands dry-washing together earnestly. "I'm your man, sir, you and Mr Roper."
"Well," drawled Dacre laconically, "I do hope so, old fellow."
He edged Cazamian towards the door and held it
"Oh," said Cazamian, as if surprised, but without being pleased.
"That's justice, ain't it, old chap?" said Dacre peevishly.
"Oh, it is, sir," said Cazamian, taking the opposite chair. "But that ain't it. Don't you know how they carry diamonds and bullion?"
"You tell me, old fellow."
Cazamian shrugged.
"It all comes in heavy wooden bullion-boxes with iron bands round them. Each box is locked, of course, and the bullion shipper stamps his own seal on the wax over the lock. The boxes arrive in the afternoon by a special wagon. The station master, with the railway police, meets them and takes them to his office to be weighed. When that's done, he and the policemen walk beside the boxes while they are wheeled to the tidal train. In the guard's van is an iron safe, made by Chubb, and the tool don't exist as would crack that. It has two locks, the station master has the key for one and the constable has the key for the other. One can't open it on his own. The guard stays in the van with it until the train gets to Folkestone. We only stop once, at Reigate. The safe comes out at Folkestone and two or three of the railway constables there stands over it on the pier until it comes to be put on the Boulogne steamer. On the steamer there's a double guard from our company and the Frenchies. Once it lands again, the agents of the two companies take it through their customs and sit with it all the way until it gets opened in Paris."
"Good," said Dacre, nodding.
"Good? It's anything but good, sir ! Even if you could get near the safe, the tool ain't made that would force that lock." Dacre nodded his agreement.
"And," continued Cazamian, "you ain't going to get the proper keys unless the station master and the police gives them to you. And even if they did, and you could open the safe, there's the bullion-boxes, which are locked and bound. Why, you might force the locks and the iron bands, but there ain't any way you could replace the seal without the bullion merchant kindly lending you his stamp. The jig would be up as soon as someone so much as looked at the boxes."
Dacre contemplated the cherry-red tip of his cigar.
"And that ain't the lot," said Cazamian decisively, "a-cos even if you was to do all that, they'd catch you with the weighing."
"Weighing?"
"They always do it somewhere, though not usually the same place twice running. They weigh the bullion-boxes to make sure that the weight ain't altered since London Bridge. If one box were to weigh different, the jig would be up."
Dacre smiled.
"Splendid I" he said. "Superb ! "
"Is it still a runner, then?" asked Cazamian incredulously. "Oh, my dear fellow, this one is no t only a runner, it's a winner! "
There was a pause, during which Dacre's enthusiasm quietened. He stood up with his thin, pale face a mask of formality once more, in its frame of neat blond whiskers. His voice was dispassionate again.
"You won't see me again, Cazamian, until we meet on the train, when I shall take back what belongs to me. Roper will tell you whatever else you need to know. In a day or two, he will also return the duplicate key of the luggage office to you."
"And when you've got your jewel back?" asked Cazamian hopefully.
"You shall have your reward, never fear. However, for the time being ..."
Dacre opened his notecase and handed Cazamian a sheet of paper.
Received from Charles Baptist Cazamian, Esquire, the sum of forty guineas, in full and complete discharge of all monies owed to me, and interest thereon, and June, 1857 . Edward Roper.
"Gesture of good faith," said Dacre. "Your debt is settled. But cross Ned Roper and he'll still have your neck, broken for you."
"Never!" said Cazamian, his hands dry-washing together earnestly. "I'm your man, sir, you and Mr Roper."
"Well," drawled Dacre laconically, "I do hope so, old fellow."
He edged Cazamian towards the door and held it
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