The Burglars' Club Part 1

The Burglars' Club.

by Henry A. Hering.

A ROMANCE IN TWELVE CHRONICLES.

I.

SIR JOHN CARDER'S CIGARS.

SIR JOHN CARDER, head of the well-known firm of Carder and Co., merchants, of Manchester, sat in his warehouse. It was one o'clock in the morning. Since half-past eight he had been alone in the building; and there in his snug private office, before a cheery fire and beneath electric light, Sir John prepared to meet what he conceived to be his fate.

He was insolvent. For some time past he had suspected that this was the state of things. Now he was sure of it. The yearly balance sheet placed in his hand the previous day by his cas.h.i.+er, together with sundry figures from his own private ledger, placed the fact beyond the region of dispute. Because he felt himself unequal to the situation, Sir John had shut himself up in his office--and on the desk in front of him was a loaded revolver.

Sir John had strong antiquarian tastes. His bachelor home in Withington was a positive museum of curiosities, from Phoenician pottery down to files of English newspapers when the Georges were kings. In his office he kept more personal relics of bygone times, and he was now sorting out the drawers of a big bureau, full of them.

He had been severely trained in method by the most orderly of fathers, and had saved every written communication he had received since the age of seventeen. It is therefore quite understandable why his acc.u.mulation of letters was so large, and partially understandable how he came to have before him four bulky parcels of them, respectively endorsed with the names of Mary, Nell, Kitty, and Flip. The dates of these, be it at once understood, were not contemporaneous, though a careful investigator might have detected a little overlapping. The letters marked Flip, it ought also to be stated, came first in point of time.

Sir John lingered long over these bundles, and read many of the letters.

They interested him greatly, and in their perusal he almost forgot the evening's ultimate objective. Connected with these particular letters was a batch of photographs, on which he gazed with tender reminiscence.

Then there were other matters of more public character--a missive, for instance, from the Prime Minister, informing him that his Majesty intended to confer upon him the honour of knighthood, his Commission in the Volunteers, and some I.O.U.'s from a member of the House of Lords.

All these, and many others, Sir John threw on the desk in front, ready for the final holocaust. With the feeling of a true collector he had not the heart to destroy them singly.

Then, from another drawer, he drew forth his balance sheets for twenty years, and glanced them through with almost as much interest as he had felt for his letters. Once, it seemed, he had been worth close on a hundred thousand pounds. An infatuated belief in a South American concession, followed by a succession of lean years in trading, had frittered all this, and more, away.

While he was gazing gloomily at these recording figures the door gently opened, and a man stood on the threshold--a man with his coat b.u.t.toned tightly up to the neck, with his cap brought down over his eyes, a man with a lamp--in short, a burglar. Sir John stared at him dumbfounded.

Then he glanced at the revolver, but it was out of reach. The burglar followed his look, and caught up the weapon.

Now thoroughly aroused, the knight indignantly exclaimed:

"You needn't add murder to your other crimes, my man."

"Sir," replied the burglar, "it would grieve me to have to antic.i.p.ate your own intentions."

Sir John was struck, as much by the melodious voice of the burglar as by his answer. Nevertheless, in his most magisterial voice he demanded: "What are you doing here?"

"Watching an elderly gentleman in an interesting situation."

"You are impertinent!" flared Sir John.

"A thousand pardons. A burglar should, I believe, be merely brutal."

"May I ask what you expect to find here?" continued the merchant. "We rarely keep enough money on the premises to make it worth your while."

"Postage stamps?" insinuated the other.

Sir John ignored the suggestion. "Certainly not enough to make it worth your while. It may be a matter of penal servitude for you."

"You open up a wide philosophic question," said the burglar suavely.

"What is worth your while in this world? 'Uneasy is the head that wears a crown.' You seem worried yourself, Sir John--going through your papers at this time o' night, with a loaded pistol by you."

The merchant was annoyed at the burglar's perspicacity, and he could not think of an effective rejoinder. His visitor advanced to the bureau. The photographs immediately engaged his attention. "Ha!" he exclaimed approvingly. "But it really isn't fair. One, two, three, four. Greedy man!"

"Will you kindly leave my private matters alone?" said the incensed knight. Then, with a sudden inspiration, he made a reckless dash for freedom by grabbing at the telephone handle, turning briskly, and shouting down the receiver, "Help! Thieves! Help!" But before he had called again the burglar had raised his revolver and had severed the connecting wire with a shot. "What an absurd idea," he said. "Why, the operator isn't awake yet."

Sir John sank back into his chair, feeling it was very likely that the burglar would adopt some extremely unpleasant form of revenge for the want of confidence he had just displayed. But his visitor did nothing of the sort. He also seated himself, and addressed the knight in grave reproof.

"If that's a sample of your best business method I'm surprised you've done so well in things," he said. Then without waiting for a reply, "Where do you keep your cigars?"

The merchant stretched out his hand and pa.s.sed a box to him. The burglar rolled one knowingly between his fingers, then replaced it, and gave the box back.

"I don't care for tenpenny whiffs, Sir John. I want your real cigars--such as you keep for your most eminent visitors--such as you should have offered me, as a matter of course."

With a sigh Sir John rose, unlocked a cabinet, and produced a box marked "TOPMANN. SUBLIMES. HABANA," which he handed to his visitor.

The burglar examined it carefully before he expressed his satisfaction.

Then he took a cigar therefrom, inspected it with marked approval, lit it, and then dropped the box into a capacious pocket.

"Those are exceptionally fine cigars," the knight remarked, with a touch of resentment in his voice.

"I know it. I've come all the way from town to fetch 'em," the burglar answered.

Sir John was surprised. "It's a long way and a dangerous mission for such an object."

"Isn't it?" said the burglar, with provoking complacency.

"And may I ask how you come to know of them?" asked Sir John, whose curiosity was aroused.

"I don't mind telling you, since I've got them safe. You opened this box for a particular guest at the Chamber of Commerce dinner a month ago."

"Lord Ribston?"

"Yes; he spoke about them at the Burglars' Club. It was my turn, and here I am--don't you see?"

"The Burglars' Club!" exclaimed Sir John, in much surprise. "I've never heard of such an inst.i.tution. And pray what has Lord Ribston, an ex-Cabinet Minister, to do with it?"

"He's one of us," the burglar explained. "You see, we are men who've pretty well exhausted the pleasures of life. We've all been in the Army or the Navy, all of us are sportsmen, and we are bachelors; so there isn't much excitement left for us. We've started a Burglars' Club to help things on a bit. The entrance fee is a town burglary, the subject to be set by our President, and every other year each member has to keep up his subscription by a provincial line. 'Sir John Carder's prime cigars by Wednesday,' was the item fixed for me at our club meeting last week, and I've got 'em easy," said the burglar, with much professional complacency.

"You astonish me," Sir John said. "In fact, I've never heard a more amazing thing in my life. But isn't it rather risky, telling me all this?"

"Not a bit. No one would believe you if you split on us, and you wouldn't find our club if you wanted to. But you wouldn't split. A man who smokes Topmann's Sublimes couldn't do such a thing if he tried."

Sir John acknowledged this speech with a bow. "But I'm greatly surprised Lord Ribston should belong to such a club," he said. "No offence to you intended," he added hastily, feeling that his remark was hardly polite.

"And no offence taken," said the burglar magnanimously. "Do you know, Sir John, there are a good many things going on in town that would be likely to astonish you a great deal more than this little club of ours if you only knew of 'em?" Then, after a moment's pause, "As you've helped me so nicely in this cigar business I shall be delighted to do you a good turn. Can I be of any use to you?"