Read Online SV - 05 - Sergeant Verity and the Swell Mob. by Francis Selwyn - Free Book Online Page B

intermittently of
Verity's meanness. He had insisted that none of Vicki Hartle's victims was to
give a reward greater than two shillings. And when the total reached two
guineas he had forbidden all further contributions.
    He and
Jolly now stood in the shadows of Duke Street as a church clock chimed the
quarter before midnight. There was a stillness, broken only by the flaring of
an occasional gas-jet and the more distant rumble of breakers on the shingle.
German Duke. It had not taken him half an hour to find that the only
jeweller's near the Chain Pier which corresponded with these words was the
premises of Mr Germain in Duke Street. It was just the sort of clue which
Lavengro's imposter would use, knowing that Verity could hardly fail to
discover the truth behind it.
    By no
means were all the gas lamps lit in Duke Street. He and the girl stood in a
pool of darkness outside a milliner's shop which effectively concealed them
from view. On the far side of the street and a little further up the slope,
there was another patch of shadowy obscurity. It concealed the locked wooden
shutters of Mr Germain's shop-front.
    There was no sign of a
burglar, nor did Verity really expect that there would be. To have caught
Vicki Hartle that afternoon was nothing. Female pickpockets abounded in such
places and any policeman who could afford the time would catch one sooner or
later. Had Vicki not been there, he might have caught Elaine half an hour
later. It was clear to him that they hoped to lead him on. Having seen the
first 'prophecy' come true, he was now supposed to waste his time watching Mr
Germain's premises in the hope of witnessing the second. No doubt they wanted
him in Duke Street so that he could not be somewhere else. But this time he was
the unseen watcher, and he had Jolly with him as a witness against stories
which might be fabricated. Perhaps the shop had been burgled already and he was
there to be set up as the dupe of the men who had done it.
    The clock which had chimed the quarter now struck the
hour. Duke Street remained deserted. It was a minute or two later when there
was the sudden noise of a plank moving, as though perhaps a cat had jumped on
a piece of loose wood and caused it to fall. The sound came from somewhere at
the back of the shops on the far pavement.
    Softly
as a shadow, Verity moved forward, motioning Jolly to remain on watch where she
was. There was no entrance at either side of the jeweller's shop. But, two
doors along, a narrow alleyway led behind the buildings. Its cobbles were
slippery with the night's condensation as he followed it. At the rear of the
buildings it passed between the high walls of two back yards. Keeping his boots
clear of the brickwork, Verity hauled himself by the strength of his powerful
arms so that he was on top of the wall, two doors along from the rear of Mr
Germain's. Gently he stood up, towering above the level of the ground, and
peered towards the back of the jeweller's premises. He could see nothing, but
he was certain that a faint rhythmic scraping was coming from the dark space.
    Whoever was doing the scraping
might not hear his soft footsteps above the insistent rasping. He decided that
if the sounds stopped, he would remain immobile. So long as it persisted, he
was safe in moving towards it.
    He
dropped softly down, crossed a patch of grass, and pulled himself on to the
next wall. Having negotiated that, he had only to cross another area and then
he was looking over the rear wall of the jeweller's shop.
    Like
the front of the building, the windows here were barricaded by locked wooden
shutters, bolted as well on the inside. Though it was dark, Verity was just
able to make out the shape of a small grey-headed man crouching by the lowest
of the shutters. At the top of the shutter there was already a neat round hole,
some four inches across. The little man was now working at a point which would
enable him to reach the lower bolt. He was using the cracksman's