The magic casket
well until it was time to remove the things after the close of the
exhibition. Now, to-day was the appointed day, and, as on the previous
occasion, she and I went to the museum together. But the unfortunate
thing is that we didn’t come away together. Her other exhibits were
all pottery, and these were dealt with first, so that she had her
handbag packed and was ready to go before they had begun on the
metal-work cases. As we were not going the same way, it didn’t seem
necessary for her to wait; so she went off with her bag and I stayed
behind until the casket was released, when I put it in my pocket and
went home, where I locked the thing up again in the strong-room.
“It was about seven when I got home. A little after eight I heard the
telephone ring down in the office, and down I went, cursing the
untimely ringer, who turned out to be a policeman at St. George’s
Hospital. He said he had found Miss Bonney lying unconscious in the
street and had taken her to the hospital, where she had been detained
for a while, but she was now recovered and he was taking her home. She
would like me, if possible, to go and see her at once. Well, of
course, I set off forthwith and got to her house a few minutes after
her arrival, and just after you had left.
“She was a good deal upset, so I didn’t worry her with many questions,
but she gave me a short account of her misadventure, which amounted to
this: She had started to walk home from the museum along the Brompton
Road, and she was passing down a quiet street between that and Fulham
Road when she heard soft footsteps behind her. The next moment, a
scarf or shawl was thrown over her head and drawn tightly round her
neck. At the same moment, the bag was snatched from her hand. That is
all that she remembers, for she was half-suffocated and so terrified
that she fainted, and knew no more until she found herself in a cab
with two policemen, who were taking her to the hospital.
“Now it is obvious that her assailants were in search of that damned
casket, for the bag had been broken open and searched, but nothing
taken or damaged; which suggests the Japanese again, for a British
thief would have smashed the crockery. I found your card there, and I
put it to Miss Bonney that we had better ask you to help us--I told
her all about you--and she agreed emphatically. So that is why I am
here, drinking your port and robbing you of your night’s rest.”
“And what do you want me to do?” Thorndyke asked.
“Whatever you think best,” was the cheerful reply. “In the first
place, this nuisance must be put a stop to--this shadowing and hanging
about. But apart from that, you must see that there is something queer
about this accursed casket. The beastly thing is of no intrinsic
value. The museum man turned up his nose at it. But it evidently has
some extrinsic value, and no small value either. If it is good enough
for these devils to follow it all the way from the States, as they
seem to have done, it is good enough for us to try to find out what
its value is. That is where you come in. I propose to bring Miss
Bonney to see you to-morrow, and I will bring the infernal casket,
too. Then you will ask her a few questions, take a look at the
casket--through the microscope, if necessary--and tell us all about it
in your usual necromantic way.”
Thorndyke laughed as he refilled our friend’s glass. “If faith will
move mountains, Brodribb,” said he, “you ought to have been a civil
engineer. But it is certainly a rather intriguing problem.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the old solicitor; “then it’s all right. I’ve known
you a good many years, but I’ve never known you to be stumped; and you
are not going to be stumped now. What time shall I bring her?
Afternoon or evening would suit her best.”
“Very well,” replied Thorndyke; “bring her to tea--say, five o’clock.
How will that do?”
“Excellently; and here’s good luck to the adventure.” He drained his
glass, and the decanter being now empty, he rose, shook our hands
warmly, and took his departure in high spirits.
It was with a very lively interest that I looked forward to the
prospective visit. Like Thorndyke, I found the case rather intriguing.
For it was quite clear, as our shrewd old friend had said, that there
was something more than met the eye in the matter of this casket.
Hence, on the following afternoon, when, on the stroke of five,
footsteps became audible on our stairs, I awaited the arrival of our
new client with keen curiosity, both as to herself and her mysterious
property.
To tell the truth, the lady was better worth looking at than the
casket. At the first glance, I was strongly prepossessed in her
favour, and so, I think, was Thorndyke. Not that she was a beauty,
though comely enough. But she was an example of a type that seems to
be growing rarer; quiet, gentle, soft-spoken, and a lady to her
finger-tips; a little sad-faced and care-worn, with a streak or two of
white in her prettily-disposed black hair, though she could not have
been much over thirty-five. Altogether a very gracious and winning
personality.
When we had been presented to her by Brodribb--who treated her as if
she had been a royal personage--and had enthroned her in the most
comfortable easy-chair, we inquired as to her health, and were duly
thanked for the salvage of the bag. Then Polton brought in the tray,
with an air that seemed to demand an escort of choristers; the tea was
poured out, and the informal proceedings began.
She had not, however, much to tell; for she had not seen her
assailants, and the essential facts of the case had been fully
presented in Brodribb’s excellent summary. After a very few questions,
therefore, we came to the next stage; which was introduced by
Brodribb’s taking from his pocket a small parcel which he proceeded to
open.
“There,” said he, “that is the _fons et origo mali_. Not much to look
at, I think you will agree.” He set the object down on the table and
glared at it malevolently, while Thorndyke and I regarded it with a
more impersonal interest. It was not much to look at. Just an ordinary
Japanese casket in the form of a squat, shapeless figure with a silly
little grinning face, of which the head and shoulders opened on a
hinge; a pleasant enough object, with its quiet, warm colouring, but
certainly not a masterpiece of art.
Thorndyke picked it up and turned it over slowly for a preliminary
inspection; then he went on to examine it detail by detail, watched
closely, in his turn, by Brodribb and me. Slowly and methodically, his
eye--fortified by a watchmaker’s eyeglass--travelled over every part
of the exterior. Then he opened it, and having examined the inside of
the lid, scrutinized the bottom from within, long and attentively.
Finally, he turned the casket upside down and examined the bottom from
without, giving to it the longest and most rigorous inspection of
all--which puzzled me somewhat, for the bottom was absolutely plain.
At length, he passed the casket and the eyeglass to me without
comment.
“Well,” said Brodribb, “what is the verdict?”
“It is of no value as a work of art,” replied Thorndyke. “The body and
lid are just castings of common white metal--an antimony alloy, I
should say. The bronze colour is lacquer.”
“So the museum man remarked,” said Brodribb.
“But,” continued Thorndyke, “there is one very odd thing about it. The
only piece of fine metal in it is in the part which matters least. The
bottom is a separate plate of the alloy known to the Japanese as
Shakudo--an alloy of copper and gold.”
“Yes,” said Brodribb, “the museum man noted that, too, and couldn’t
make out why it had been put there.”
“Then,” Thorndyke continued, “there is another anomalous feature; the
inside of the bottom is covered with elaborate decoration--just the
place where decoration is most inappropriate, since it would be
covered up by the contents of the casket. And, again, this decoration
is etched; not engraved or chased. But etching is a very unusual
process for this purpose, if it is ever used at all by Japanese
metal-workers. My impression is that it is not; for it is most
unsuitable for decorative purposes. That is all that I observe, so
far.”
“And what do you infer from your observations?” Brodribb asked.
“I should like to think the matter over,” was the reply. “There is an
obvious anomaly, which must have some significance. But I won’t embark
on speculative opinions at this stage. I should like, however, to take
one or two photographs of the casket, for reference; but that will
occupy some time. You will hardly want to wait so long.”
“No,” said Brodribb. “But Miss Bonney is coming with me to my office
to go over some documents and discuss a little business. When we have
finished, I will come back and fetch the confounded thing.”
“There is no need for that,” replied Thorndyke. “As soon as I have
done what is necessary, I will bring it up to your place.”
To this arrangement Brodribb agreed readily, and he and his client
prepared to depart. I rose, too, and as I happened to have a call to
make in Old Square, Lincoln’s Inn, I asked permission to walk with
them.
As we came out into King’s Bench Walk I noticed a smallish,
gentlemanly-looking man who had just passed our entry and now turned
in at the one next door; and by the light of the lamp in the entry he
looked to me like a Japanese. I thought Miss Bonney had observed him,
too, but she made no remark, and neither did I. But, passing up Inner
Temple Lane, we nearly overtook two other men, who--though I got but a
back view of them and the light was feeble enough--aroused my
suspicions by their neat, small figures. As we approached, they
quickened their pace, and one of them looked back over his shoulder;
and then my suspicions were confirmed, for it was an unmistakable
Japanese face that looked round at us. Miss Bonney saw that I had
observed the men, for she remarked, as they turned sharply at the
Cloisters and entered Pump Court:
“You see, I am still haunted by Japanese.”
“I noticed them,” said Brodribb. “They are probably law students. But
we may as well be companionable;” and with this, he, too, headed for
Pump Court.
We followed our oriental friends across the Lane into Fountain Court,
and through that and Devereux Court out to Temple Bar, where we parted
from them; they turning westward and we crossing to Bell Yard, up
which we walked, entering New Square by the Carey Street gate. At
Brodribb’s doorway we halted and looked back, but no one was in sight.
I accordingly went my way, promising to return anon to hear
Thorndyke’s report, and the lawyer and his client disappeared through
the portal.
My business occupied me longer than I had expected, but nevertheless,
when I arrived at Brodribb’s premises--where he lived in chambers over
his office--Thorndyke had not yet made his appearance. A quarter of an
hour later, however, we heard his brisk steps on the stairs, and as
Brodribb threw the door open, he entered and produced the casket from
his pocket.
“Well,” said Brodribb, taking it from him and locking it, for the time
being, in a drawer, “has the oracle spoken; and if so, what did he
say?”
“Oracles,” replied Thorndyke, “have a way of being more concise than
explicit. Before I attempt to interpret the message, I should like to
view the scene of the escape; to see if there was any intelligible
reason why this man, Uyenishi, should have returned up Brownlow Street
into what must have been the danger zone. I think that is a material
question.”
“Then,” said Brodribb, with evident eagerness, “let us all walk up and
have a look at the confounded place. It is quite close by.”
We all agreed instantly, two of us, at least, being on the tip-toe of
expectation. For Thorndyke, who habitually understated his results,