The dream detective
“Presently, you come out. You peep over the wall. Ah! out, also, is
Madame! She stretches up her white arms--so like the real ivory!--he
stretches down his steel hands. He raises her beside him! Name of a
dog, he is strong!
“Why to the roof and not over the wall? The path is of gravel and her
feet are bare. On the roof, to prove me correct, upon the grime are
marks of small bare feet; are marks of men’s rubber shoes; are,
halfway along, marks of smaller rubber shoes--which he had brought for
Nina. He has forethought. They retire by the farther gate of your
neighbour’s drive.
“No doubt he bring her furs as well--no doubt. But she contracts a
chill, no wonder! Ah! he is cool, he is daring, he is a great man----”
A maid entered the studio.
“A gentleman to see you, sir.”
“Ask him to come along here.”
A short interval--and Jean Colette entered, hat in hand!
“These two wedges, m’sieur”--he bowed to Paxton--“which help to attach
the girdle. I forgot to return them. Adieu!”
He placed the wedges on a table and, amid a dramatic silence,
withdrew.
Moris Klaw took out the cylindrical scent spray from the lining of the
brown bowler.
“A true touch of Paris!” he rumbled. “Did I not say he was a great
man?”
FIFTH EPISODE.
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
I
Inspector Grimsby called upon me one evening, wearing a great
glumness of countenance.
“Look here,” said he, “I’m in a bit of a corner. You’ll have heard
that a committee of commercial magnates has been formed to buy, and on
behalf of the City of London to present to the Crown, the big Indian
diamond?”
I nodded and pushed the box of cigarettes toward him.
“Well,” he continued, thoughtfully selecting one, “they are meeting in
Moorgate Street to-morrow morning to complete the deal and formally
take over the stone. Sir Michael Cayley, the Lord Mayor, will be
present, and he’s received a letter, which has been passed on to me.”
He fumbled for his pocket-case. Grimsby is a man who will go far. He
is the youngest detective-inspector in the service, and he has that
priceless gift--the art of using other people for the furtherance of
his own ends. I do not intend this criticism unkindly. Grimsby does
nothing dishonourable and seeks to rob no man of the credit that may
be due. There is nothing underhand about Grimsby, but he is
exceedingly diplomatic. He imparts official secrets to me with an
ingenuousness entirely disarming--but always for reasons of his own.
“Here you are,” he said, and passed a letter to me.
It read as follows:
“_To the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor of London._
“My Lord:
“Beware that the Blue Rajah is not stolen on Wednesday the 13th inst.
Do not lose sight of it for one moment.
“Your Lordship’s obedient servant,
“Moris Klaw.”
“You see,” continued Grimsby, “Wednesday the thirteenth is to-morrow,
when the thing is being brought to Moorgate Street. Naturally, Sir
Michael communicated with the Yard, and as I’m in the know about Moris
Klaw, I got the job of looking into the matter. I was at the Mansion
House this morning.”
“I suppose Sir Michael regards this note with suspicion?”
“Well, he’s not silly enough to suppose that anybody who thought of
stealing the diamond would drop him a line advising him of the matter!
But he’d never heard of Moris Klaw until I explained about him. When I
told him that Klaw had a theory about the Cycle of Crime, and his
letter probably meant that, according to said theory, on Wednesday the
thirteenth the Blue Rajah was due to be lifted, so to speak, he
laughed. You’ll have noticed that people mostly laugh at first about
Moris Klaw?”
“Certainly. You did, yourself!”
“I know it--and I’m suffering for it! Klaw won’t lift his little
finger when I ask him; and as for his daughter, she giggles as though
she was looking at a comedian when she looks at _me!_ She thinks I’m
properly funny!”
“You’ve been to Wapping, then?”
“Yes, this afternoon. The Lord Mayor wanted a lot of convincing that
Moris Klaw was on the straight after I’d told him that the old
gentleman was a dealer in curios in the East End. Finally, he
suggested that I should find out what the warning meant exactly. But I
couldn’t get to see Klaw; his daughter said he was out.”
“I suppose every precaution will be taken?”
“To-morrow morning we have arranged that I and two other C.I.D. men
are to accompany the party to the safe deposit vaults to fetch the
diamond and we shall guard it on the way back afterward.”
“Who’s going to fetch it?”
“Sir John Carron, representing the India Office, Mr. Mark
Anderson--the expert--representing the city, and Mr. Gautami Chinje,
representing the Gaekwar of Nizam. I was wondering”--he surveyed the
burning end of his cigarette--“if you had time to run down to Wapping
yourself and find out from what direction we ought to look for
trouble?”
“Sorry, Grimsby,” I replied; “I would do it with pleasure, but my
evening is fully taken up. Personally, it appears to me that Moris
Klaw’s warning was a timely one. You seem to be watching the stone
pretty closely.”
“Like a cat watches a mouse!” he rapped. “If any one steals the Blue
Rajah to-morrow, he’ll be a clever fellow.”
II
Basinghall House, Moorgate Street, is built around a courtyard. You
enter under an archway, and find offices before you, offices to right
and offices to left. As a matter of fact, Basinghall House was
designed for a hotel, but subsequently let off in suites of chambers.
The offices of Messrs. Anderson & Brothers are on the left, as you
enter, and from the window of the principal’s sanctum you may look
down into the courtyard.
The room chosen for the meeting on Wednesday morning, however, was one
opening off this. In common with the adjoining office--as I have said,
that of the principal--it had a second door, opening on a corridor.
This latter door, however, was never used and was always kept
double-locked. Thus, the doorway from the other office was really its
only means of entrance or egress. A large window offered a prospect of
the courtyard.
At a quarter to eleven on Wednesday morning, Mr. Anderson (one of the
City Aldermen) entered his own private office from the corridor. He
was accompanied by Sir John Carron, Mr. Gautami Chinje, and Inspector
Grimsby. These three had come with him from the safe deposit vaults.
Mr. Anderson had possession of the case containing the diamond.
In the office, already awaiting the party, were Sir Michael Cayley
(the Lord Mayor); Mr. Morrison Dell, of the Goldsmiths & Silversmiths
Company; Sir Vernon Rankin (ex-Lord Mayor); Mr. Werner, of the great
engineering firm; and Mr. Anderson, junior. These constituted the
Presentation Committee duly appointed by the City of London
(excluding, of course, Sir John Carron, of the India Office; Mr.
Chinje, representing the vendor of the jewel; and Mr. Grimsby,
representing New Scotland Yard).
“We are all present, gentlemen,” said Mr. Anderson. “But before we
proceed to the business which brings us here, we will enter the inner
room, where we shall be quite private.”
Accordingly the party of eight passed through the doorway; and Mr.
Anderson, senior, entering last, relocked the door behind him.
Inspector Grimsby remained alone in the private office.
Eight oaken chairs and a small oaken table bearing a pewter inkpot,
two pens, and a blotting pad represent, with a square of red carpet
and a framed photograph bearing the legend: “Jagersfontein Diamond
Workings, Orange Free State, 1909,” an inventory of the furniture.
The company being seated, Mr. Anderson, by the table, rose and said:
“Gentlemen, our business this morning can be briefly dealt with. I
have here”--he produced a leather case, opened it, and placed it on
the table before him--“the diamond known as the Blue Rajah. Its
history may be summarized thus: It appeared in the year 1680 and is
supposed to have been found in the Kollur Mine, on the Kostna. It had
a weight of 254½ carats in the rough, but was reduced to 132 carats
in the cutting. It has been successively owned by Nadîr Shah,
Princess de Lambelle, the Sultan Abdúl Hámid, Mr. Simon Rabstein of
New York, and, finally, the Gaekwar of Nizam. It has no flaws; in
fact, two of the original facets were retained when the stone passed
through the cutter’s hands. It is rose cut and its colour is of the
finest water, having the rare blue tint.”
He paused, raising the diamond from its receptacle, and holding it in
his hand. The sunlight, pouring in through the window, struck
flame-spears from the wonderful thing.
“In fact, gentlemen,” he concluded, “the Blue Rajah is a fitting
offering for the City of London to make to the Crown.”
“Hear, hear!” chorused the others; and the diamond was passed from
hand to hand. The formal business of making over the stone to the
Committee was then transacted. A huge check was placed in the
pocket-case of Mr. Gautami Chinje, autographs were affixed to two
formidable documents; and the Blue Rajah became the property of the
loyal City of London.
“You see,” said Sir John Carron, holding the stone daintily between
thumb and forefinger, and pointing, lecturer-fashion, “the diamond is
perfectly proportioned, being a full three fifths as deep as it is
broad.”
“Quite so,” agreed Mr. Morris Dell, looking over his shoulder.
“It is the most perfectly proportioned stone I have ever handled, Sir
John,” said the younger Mr. Anderson--and he stood back surveying the
gem with the caressing glance of a connoisseur.
Sir John turned and tenderly laid the diamond in its case. At which
moment, exactly, arose a blood-curdling scream in the courtyard below.
“Good Lord!” cried Mr. Werner. “What is that?”
There was a crowded rush to the window--those in the second rank
peering over the heads and shoulders of those in the first. The horrid
cries continued, in a choking yet shrill crescendo.
“Ah! God in Heaven! You are killing me! No! No! Mercy!… Mercy!…
Mercy!…”
“It is someone in the archway,” said Sir Vernon Rankin, excitedly.
“Can any of you see him?”
No one could, though all craned necks vigorously.
“Unfortunately, the window cannot be opened,” cried Mr. Anderson. “The
catch has jammed in some way. I am having it removed immediately.”
The cries ceased. People were running about below, and the blue
uniform of a city constable showed among the group in the archway.
“I’ll run down and see what has happened,” said Mr. Chinje, stepping
to the door which opened on the corridor. “Hullo! it is locked!”
Young Mr. Anderson turned to him with a smile.
“Both doors are locked, Mr. Chinje,” he said. “For the time being we
are virtually prisoners.”
“Give me the case,” said his father, selecting the key of the door
communicating with his private office. “There is no occasion for
further delay.”
The Lord Mayor turned from the window, through which he had still been
vainly peering, and stepped to the table.
“Mr. Anderson!”
“Yes?” said the latter, glancing back, keys in hand.
“Have you the diamond?”
“Certainly not!”
“Then who has it?”
No one had it. But the case was empty!
III
Mr. Anderson replaced the keys in his pocket. His ruddy face suddenly
had grown pale. Sir Michael Cayley, the empty case in his hand, stood
staring across the room like a man dazed. Then he forced speech to his
lips.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “since it is physically impossible for the
diamond to have left this room, in this room it must be searched
for--and found. First, is it by any chance upon the floor?”
A brief examination showed that it was not.
“Then,” continued Sir Michael, “the painful conclusion is unavoidable
that it is upon someone’s person!”