The Case Of The Smuggled Diamond Episode 2

The man looked furtively about him as he crossed the foyer, put on a black Homburg hat, then went to the door. Twice he glanced over his shoulder. Something about him quickened Hawke’s interest.

Hawke followed swiftly and saw the man approach his own waiting taxi.

He heard the foreign voice clearly: “Pliz, driver, most important, yes. Pliz, pliz take me!”

Hawke stepped behind him as he continued: “For only 10 leetle minutes, it weel not take long, pliz!”

“Sorry, guv’nor – I’m on a job for Dixon Hawke,” said the driver, who knew Hawke well by sight, and saw him near.

“If ’e don’t want the cab for a quarter of an hour, ask ’im.”

The fat foreigner turned on his heels. Hawke smiled and said evenly: “I’m Dixon Hawke. Can I –”

“Hook. Hook, ze great Hook, ze one man in all ze world who can help me!

“Of your fame I ’ave heard, yes, pliz, pliz, you vill not say ‘No!’ ”

“If I can help –” began Hawke.

He got no further, for the plump man flung his arms about him – or as far round as the short, stubby arms would go.

He strained himself to his full height on tiptoe, and actually tried to kiss Hawke’s cheek.

Excited

Hawke backed away hastily, while the taxi driver did not try to hide a grin. “’E’s fond of yer, ain’t ’e, guv’nor?” “A little too fond,” said Hawke ruefully. “Now, sir –” he had disentangled himself and managed to keep the excited foreigner at arm’s length – “you apparently want to talk business with me?” “Pissness, yes, zat is so!”

Denied a closer embrace, the man linked arms with Hawke and, ignoring the taxi now, turned back to the hotel.

“Hook, I vake up early; in my room I find a t’ief.

“Yes, a t’ief who goes to my case, in which is ze most valuable of jewels – diamonds – all zat I ’ave with which to live, yes.

“Ze t’ief, out he goes, an’ to ze telephone I hurry, an’ call for you. “Ze diamonds, where are they?” Hawke raised his eyebrows.

“I can’t perform miracles, m’sieu.”

He did not think the man was French, but imagined him to be Flemish or southern Dutch.

A florid face, rather deep eyes buried in flesh, and a wide mouth were not particularly prepossessing.

“Miracles, no! But zey say to me if you air in trooble in ze England, sen’ for Dixon Hook, yes.

“His address, zey give it to me, Hook!”

Flourish

He dived a hand to his inside breast pocket, while Hawke said:

“Who gave you my address, m’sieur?” “Zey did; my frien’s in Amsterdam, befoore ze great German attack an’ ze sad war!”

From his wallet he took a card with a flourish, and Hawke read: Mynheer van Marak,

Grande Hotel,

London.

By then they had reached the foyer of the hotel, and Hawke looked about for Tommy.

He frowned when he saw no sign of the youngster, and moved towards the reception desk.

Van Marak tugged at his arm. “Hook, hurry, pliz, ze quickair you search the room ze bettair it will be. Pliz hurry!”

Hawke said sharply: “A moment, Mynheer. I have a message to deliver.”

He freed himself from van Marak, and reached the reception desk.

A telephone inquiry to the switchboard told him of Tommy’s visit there. Hawke’s brows contracted.

“Have you been here all the time, miss?” “Oh, yes, sir,” said the receptionist. “I saw the young man go upstairs, but he certainly hasn’t come down.”

“Then that means he disappeared somewhere between here and the telephone switchboard,” Hawke said sharply.

“Ah, porter –”

He turned to a middle-aged man who had just come on duty.

However, before he could speak van Marak said in an almost frenzied voice: “Hook, Hook, pliz help me, pliz!”

Hawke snapped: “This is an important part of the case, Mynheer.

“I will try to get your diamonds back, but you must let me work my own way at it.”

Startled

Hawke looked about for Tommy. He frowned when he saw no sign of him, and moved towards the reception desk.

He went on to the porter: “Is it possible for a man to be taken into any room between here and the telephone switchboard?”

The man looked startled.

“Well – there are two rooms in the passage, sir – a storeroom and the laundry room. But –”

“I want them searched immediately,” said Hawke.

He led the way, with the porter by his side, a much puzzled man, and van Marak trotting along in the rear.

The porter went into the storeroom, Hawke and van Marak into the laundry.

“Zere is no’ting here,” said van Marak. “You see, Hook?

“Pliz, ’ow you look for my jewels down here?”

More tomorrow.

Dixon Hawke, along with his trusty sidekick Tommy Burke, appeared in several DC Thomson publications, starting around 1912.