The dream detective
An angry murmur arose. Mr. Anderson raised his hand.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “Sir Michael states no more than the fact.”
And, his face remaining very pale, he removed his coat and waistcoat
and threw them upon the table, emptied his trouser pockets and turned
out the linings.
“Be good enough to examine them, gentlemen,” he said.
There was a momentary hesitation; but the Lord Mayor stepped forward
and in a businesslike way examined the contents of the several
pockets. He turned to Mr. Anderson.
“Thank you,” he said. “If the others are satisfied, I am.”
There was a murmur of assent; and as the owner of the office picked up
his property, Sir Michael, in turn, submitted himself to examination.
All the others followed suit, without further hesitation. And the
result of the inquiry was _nil_.
Eight anxious faces surrounded the little table.
“I suggest,” said Mr. Anderson, quietly, “that we admit the detective
who is in my office. His experience may enable him to succeed where we
have failed.”
All agreeing, the communicating door was opened. Mr. Anderson, without
quitting the room, called to Inspector Grimsby. The inspector entered.
The door was relocked.
“Inspector,” said Mr. Anderson, “the diamond is missing!”
Whereupon Grimsby’s eyes opened widely in amazement.
“Are you sure, sir?”
“Unfortunately, I cannot doubt it.”
“When did you last see it?”
“At the moment when that uproar broke out below,” said Mr. Dell.
“Ah,” murmured Grimsby, thoughtfully. “You all rushed to the window, I
expect?”
“Exactly.”
“Leaving the diamond on the table?”
“Yes.”
“That’s when it was stolen!”
“Very possibly, Inspector,” said the Lord Mayor, a stoutly built man
with an imperious manner. “But who took it and where did he conceal
it?”
“You must all submit to be searched, gentlemen!”
“We have already done so.”
“I am more used to that sort of thing. Do you all agree to being
searched by me?”
All did. The previous performance was repeated. Grimsby not only
searched the garments but passed his hands all over the persons of the
eight, even making them open their mouths and tapping at their teeth
with a lead pencil!
“I did some I.D.B. work in South Africa,” he explained. “It’s
wonderful where a clever man can hide a diamond.”
But no diamond was found!
The better to bring home to those who read these records the truly
amazing nature of this circumstance, I will explain again, here, the
construction and furniture of the apartment.
It was a small room, some fourteen feet by eighteen. It contained
eight oak chairs and an oak table; a red carpet; its walls were
distempered and bare, save for the framed photograph previously
mentioned. The one window was closed and fastened. The door opening on
the corridor was double-locked. Save when it had been opened to admit
Grimsby, the door communicating with the next office had also been
locked throughout the course of the meeting. There was no fireplace.
Ventilation was provided for by a small, square ventilator above the
corridor door.
Having convinced himself that the diamond was not upon the person of
any one present, Inspector Grimsby took but two or three minutes to
satisfy himself that it was not concealed elsewhere.
“Gentlemen,” he said, slowly, “the Blue Rajah is not in this room!”
The Lord Mayor glared. He was a director of the company with which the
diamond was insured.
“My good man,” he said, “it isn’t humanly possible for
anything--anything--to have gone out of this room since we entered
it!”
“I’m disposed to agree with you, sir,” replied Grimsby. “But at the
same time I’ll stake my reputation that the diamond isn’t inside these
four walls! Although my search of you gentlemen was a mere formality,
I assure you it was thorough. I’ve searched a few score Kaffirs and I
know my business. As to the room itself, it’s as bare as a drawing
board. A child could find the smallest bead in it inside twenty
seconds. You can take it from me as a stone certainty that the diamond
has gone!”
“Then we are wasting precious time!” cried Sir Michael. “Commence the
pursuit at once, Inspector!”
Grimsby’s jaw shot out doggedly.
“If you could give me a hint where to begin, sir,” he said, “I
shouldn’t waste another second!”
“Hang it all, that’s your business, my man!”
“I know it is, sir. But I’m only a poor human policeman, after all. We
sha’n’t gain anything by getting angry, shall we? This room, to all
intents and purposes, is a locked box from which something has been
abstracted without lifting the lid. That’s a conjuring trick, and as
puzzling to me as it is to you.”
Sir Michael softened. Inspector Grimsby is not a man who can be
browbeaten.
“Quite right, Inspector,” he said; “I recognize the difficulties. But
this loss is horrible. It reflects upon all of us--all of us. If the
news of this theft leaks out--if the stone cannot be recovered--a
certain stigma--I cannot blind myself to the fact--a certain stigma
will attach to our personal integrity. Clean as our records may be, we
cannot hope to escape it. For God’s sake, Inspector, set your wits to
work.”
Indeed, those were anxious faces that surrounded the detective.
Suddenly--
“Ah!” cried the Lord Mayor, “the man Klaw! On his own showing he knows
something of this matter! Mr. Grimsby----”
Grimsby held up his hand and nodded.
“With your permission, gentlemen,” he said, “I will try to get into
communication with Moris Klaw at once.”
“Good,” said Mr. Anderson; “and meanwhile, whilst we await the result
of your efforts, Inspector, I suggest, in the interests of all, that
we lunch in my office. It may be inconvenient for many of you, but for
my own part I am anxious to remain on these premises until we have
news of the whereabouts of the diamond.”
The proposal was carried unanimously. No one of those substantial men
of affairs was anxious to lay himself open to the suspicion of having
removed the great Blue Rajah from the office! For, as Sir Michael
quite justly had pointed out, where a diamond worth an emperor’s
ransom is concerned, reputations melt like ice beneath a tropical sun.
In this way, then, I found myself concerned in the case; for Grimsby
hastened to call me up, begging me to urge the retiring Moris Klaw to
quit his Wapping haunt, to which he clung like Diogenes to his wooden
cavern, and to journey to Moorgate Street. Fortunately, I was in my
rooms, and, willing enough to enjoy an opportunity of studying Klaw at
work, I despatched a district messenger to him, trusting that he would
be at his shop.
Since evidently he had apprehended that an attempt would be made this
morning, I did not doubt that he would be at home. Indeed, he rang me
up less than half an hour later and arranged to meet me at Mr.
Anderson’s office.
“I warned him--that Lord Mayor,” came his rumbling continental tones
along the wire, “how he must not let it out of his sight. He ignored
me. So! Ring him up immediately, and tell him to have ready for me hot
black coffee. It stimulates the inner perception when green tea is not
obtainable.”
Without delay I followed Moris Klaw’s instructions, and then hurried
out and into a cab. My duties, as Klaw’s
biographer--self-appointed--forbade my delaying.
We arrived at Basinghall House simultaneously. Our cabs drew up one
behind the other. Except for the presence of Inspector Grimsby at the
entrance, there was nothing to show that a stupendous robbery had been
committed there less than an hour before. As I descended, Grimsby ran
and opened the door of the other cab. He offered his hand to the
beautiful girl who was within, according her all the nervous deference
due to a queen.
And indeed no queen of ancient times could have looked more queenly
than Isis Klaw--no Hatshepsu could have carried herself more regally.
She wore a dark, close-fitting costume and ermine furs. In contrast to
the snowy peltry, her large black eyes and perfect red lips rendered
her a study for the brush of a painter, but, like her Oriental grace,
defied the pen of the scribe.
Moris Klaw’s daughter, her dazzling beauty enhanced by all the
feminine arts of Paris, was a rare exotic one would not have sought in
the neighbourhood of Wapping Old Stairs. But her father afforded a
contrast at least as singular as her residence.
Behind this seductive vision he appeared, enveloped in his caped coat,
his yellow bearded face crowned by the brown bowler of Early Victorian
pattern--indeed, apparently of Early Victorian manufacture. He peered
at the taximeter through his gold-rimmed pince-nez.
“Two and tenpence,” he rumbled, hoarsely. “That meter requires
inspection, my friend. I have watched it popping up those two pennies,
and I have perceived that it does so every time the cab bumps upon a
drain-hole. I am to pay, then, for all the drains between Wapping and
Moorgate Street. Here it is--three shillings. One and fourpence for
the company and one and eightpence for yourself.”
He turned aside, raising his hat.
“Good morning, Mr. Searles! Good morning, Mr. Grimsby! I shall charge
the City of London one and sixpence for drains. Let us walk on as far
as the courtyard I see yonder, and you shall tell me all the facts
before I interview those others, who will be, of course, so prejudiced
by their misfortune.”
We passed on, and many a clerkly glance followed the furry figure of
Isis beneath the archway. Hemmed in by offices, a certain quietude
prevailed in the courtyard.
“It is a chilly morning,” said Moris Klaw; “but here we will stop and
talk.”
Accordingly Grimsby related the known facts of the case, more often
addressing his story to the girl than to her father.
“Yes, yes,” growled the latter, when the tale was told; “and this
crying out--this screaming of murder--what occasioned it?”
“That’s the mystery!” explained the detective. “I wish I had run out
at once. I might have learned something. As it is, all I can find out
amounts to nothing. The clerks and porters and other people who came
flocking to the scene found no one here who knew anything about it!”
“The screamer was missing, eh?”
“Vanished! I can’t help thinking it was a ruse; though what anybody
profited by it isn’t clear.”
“It is not clear, you say?” rumbled Moris Klaw. “Ah! you have a fog of
the mentality, my friend!” Grimsby flushed.
“Of course,” he added, hurriedly, “I can see that it served to divert
the attention of the people who ought to have been guarding the
diamond. But as both the doors and the window were locked, how did it
help to get the stone out of the office?”
Moris Klaw pulled reflectively at his scanty beard.
“We shall see,” he rumbled. “Let us ascend.”
We entered the lift and went up to the office of Messrs. Anderson &
Brothers. The Presentation Committee were awaiting the mysterious
Moris Klaw but had not anticipated a visit from a pretty woman. They
were prepared to adopt toward the man who would seem to have had some
foreknowledge of the robbery a certain attitude of suspicion. It was
amusing to note the change of front when Isis entered. Moris Klaw
singled out the Lord Mayor and the owner of the office with unerring
instinct. He removed his hat.
“Good morning, Mr. Anderson!” he said. “Good morning, Sir Michael!
Good morning, gentlemen!”
“This is Mr. Moris Klaw,” explained Grimsby, “and Miss Klaw. Mr.
Searles.”
Mr. Anderson hastened to place chairs. We became seated. Following a
short interval, Sir Michael Cayley cleared his throat.
“We are--er--indebted to you, Mr. Klaw,” he began, “for taking this
trouble. But, in view of your note to me----”
Moris Klaw raised his hand.
“So simple,” he said, whilst the Committee watched him, puzzled and
surprised--that is, those who were not watching Isis did so. “I have a