The Sign of the Seven Sins
had passed. She sat, a pretty, dainty figure, in her lace-trimmed and
beribboned robe-de-chambre, leaning her bare elbows upon the table, and
listening open-mouthed.
“And the police actually allowed him to escape scot-free?” she cried
indignantly.
“Yes.”
“The thing is monstrous. I begin to think that their failure to trace
the murderer is because they are in league with him. Here, abroad,
one never knows. My dear Carmela, depend upon it that in this world
of Monte Carlo the police are bribed just as the press, the railway
men, and porters are bribed by those rulers of the Riviera, the
Administration of the Société des Bains de Mer de Monaco.”
“That may be so,” I observed wonderingly. “But the fact still remains
that last night I danced with Reggie’s assassin.”
“Did he dance well?”
“Oh Ulrica! Don’t treat the thing humorously!” I protested.
“I’m not humorous. The worst of Carnival balls is that they’re such
mixed affairs. One meets millionaires and murderers, and rubs shoulders
with the most notorious women in Europe. Your adventure, however, is
absolutely unique. If it got into the papers what a nice little story
it would make, wouldn’t it?”
“For Heaven’s sake, no!” I cried.
“Well, if you don’t want it to reach the _Petit Niçois_ or the
_Eclaireur_ you’d better be pretty close about it. Poor Reggie’s murder
is a mystery, and the public fondly delight to read anything about a
mystery.”
We discussed it for a long time, until the entrance of Felicita caused
us to drop the subject. Yes, it was, as Ulrica had declared, an
absolute enigma.
About four o’clock in the afternoon, when we had both dressed ready
to go out,--for we had accepted an invitation to go on an excursion
in automobile up to Tourette,--the waiter entered with a card, which
Ulrica took and read.
“Oh,” she sighed, “here’s another detective! Don’t let him keep us,
dear. You know the Allens won’t wait for us. They said four o’clock
sharp, opposite Vogarde’s.”
“But we can’t refuse to see him,” I said.
“Of course not,” she replied, and turning to the waiter ordered him to
show the caller up.
“There are two gentlemen,” he explained.
“Then show them both up,” answered Ulrica. “Be sharp, please, as we are
in a hurry.”
“Yes, madame,” responded the waiter, a young Swiss, and went below.
“I suppose they are the pair I saw last night,” I said. “The police on
the Continent seem always to hunt in couples. One never sees a single
gendarme, either in France or Italy.”
“One goes to keep the other cheerful, I believe,” Ulrica remarked, and
a few moments later the two callers were shown in.
They were not the same as I had seen in the Director’s room at the
Casino.
“I regret this intrusion,” said the elder, a dark-bearded, rather
unwholesome-looking individual with lank black hair. “I have, I
believe, the honor of addressing Mademoiselle Rosselli?”
“That’s me,” I responded briefly, for I did not intend them to cause
me to lose a most enjoyable trip in that most chic of latter-day
conveyances, an automobile.
“We are police agents, as you have possibly seen from my card, and
have called merely to ask whether you can identify either of these
photographs,” and he pulled forth two cabinet pictures from his pocket
and handed them over to me.
One was a prison photograph of an elderly, sad-eyed convict, with
baldish head and scraggy beard, while the other was a well-taken
likeness of a foppishly dressed young man of about twenty-eight, the
upward trend of his mustache giving him a foreign appearance.
Both were strangers to me. I had never seen either of them in the
flesh, at least to my knowledge, and Ulrica was also agreed that she
had never seen any one bearing the slightest resemblance to either.
“Mademoiselle is absolutely certain?” the detective asked of me.
“Absolutely,” I responded.
“Will mademoiselle have the kindness to allow her memory to go back for
one moment to the day of the unfortunate gentleman’s death?” asked the
detective with an amiable air. “At the time M’sieur Thorne was at the
table at Monte Carlo and playing with success there were, I believe,
many persons around him.”
“Yes, a crowd.”
“And near him, almost at his elbow, you did not see this man?” he
inquired, indicating the bearded convict.
I shook my head.
“I really do not recollect any face of that excited crowd,” I
responded. “He may have been there, but I certainly did not see him.”
“Nor did I,” chimed in Ulrica.
“Then I much regret troubling you,” he said, bowing politely. “In this
affair we are, as you of course know, making very searching inquiries
on account of representations made by the Ambassador of the United
States in Paris. We intend, if possible, to solve the mystery.”
“And the man who accosted me at the ball last night,” I said. “Do you
suspect him to be the original of that photograph?”
“At the ball last night? I do not follow mademoiselle.”
“But I made a statement of the whole facts to two agents of your
department at an early hour this morning, before I left the Casino.”
He looked puzzled, and his dark face broadened into a smile.
“Pardon. But I think mademoiselle must be under some misapprehension.
What occurred at the ball? Anything to arouse your suspicion?”
“To arouse my suspicion?” I echoed. “Why, a man attired in the garb of
an owl accosted me, gave me a strange warning, and actually placed in
my hands the sixty thousand francs in notes stolen from the dead man!”
“Impossible!” gasped the detective, amazed. “Where are the notes? You
should have given us information instantly.”
“I handed the notes to two police agents who were waiting in the
Director’s room, and to whom I made a statement of the whole affair.”
“What!” he cried loudly. “You have parted with the money?”
“Certainly.”
“Then mademoiselle has been most cleverly tricked, for the men to whom
you handed the proceeds of the robbery were certainly not agents of the
police!--they were impostors!”
CHAPTER XI
DESCRIBES A MEETING AND ITS SEQUEL
His words staggered me.
“Not agents of police!” I cried, dumfounded. “Why, they were fully
cognizant of every detail of the affair. It was the Director of the
Casino who presented them.”
“Then M’sieur the Directeur was tricked, just as you were,” he answered
gravely. “You say that you actually received from the hands of some
one who wore an effective disguise the sum stolen from the unfortunate
m’sieur? Kindly explain the whole circumstances of your meeting, and
what passed between you.”
“My dear Carmela,” exclaimed Ulrica. “This fresh complication is
absolutely bewildering. You not only danced and chatted with the
murderer, but you were the victim of a very clever plot.”
“That is quite certain,” observed the officer. “The two individuals to
whom mademoiselle inadvertently gave the notes upon the representations
that they were agents of the police, were evidently well acquainted
with the murderer’s intention to give up the proceeds of the robbery,
and had watched you narrowly all through the evening. But kindly give
us exact details.”
In obedience to his demand, I recounted the whole story. It seemed
to me incredible that the two men who had sent for me were bogus
detectives, yet such was the actual fact, as was shown later when the
Director of the Casino explained how they had come to him, telling him
that they were police agents from Marseilles, and had ordered him to
send for me, as they wished to interrogate me regarding “the affair of
the Grand Hotel.” Such, he declared, was their air of authority that he
never for a moment doubted that they were genuine officers of police.
My statement held the two men absolutely speechless. I told them of the
strange appointment in London made by the man with the owl’s face, of
the curious warning he had given me, and of the manner in which he had
presented me with the sum won at the tables by the murdered man.
“You can give us absolutely no idea whatever of his personal
appearance?” he inquired dubiously.
“None whatever,” I answered. “The dress and mask were effectual in
disguising him.”
“And the two men who falsely passed as police agents--will you kindly
describe them?” And he took out a well-worn pocket-book and scribbled
in it.
I described their personal appearance as closely as I could, while on
his part he took down my statement very carefully.
“This is most extraordinary!” Ulrica observed, standing near me in
wonder. “The pair who said they were detectives were exceedingly
clever, and are evidently aware of all that has transpired.”
“Marvellous!” exclaimed the man reflectively. “Only a very clever thief
would dare to walk into the bureau of the Casino and act as they did.”
“Have they any connection with the actual assassin, do you think?”
“I’m inclined to believe so,” he responded. “It was a conspiracy on
their part to obtain possession of the money.”
“Of course, I gave it up in entire innocence,” I said. “I never dreamed
that such a plot could exist.”
“Ah, mademoiselle,” observed the detective, “in this affair we have
evidently to deal with those who have brought crime to a fine art.
There seems something remarkable regarding the appointment in London
on the second of June. It seems as though it were devised to gain time
with some secret object or another.”
“I am absolutely bewildered,” I admitted. “My position in this tragic
affair is anything but enviable.”
“Most certainly. All this must be most annoying and distressing to
mademoiselle. I only hope we shall be successful in tracing the real
perpetrators of the crime.”
“You think there was more than one?”
“That is most probable,” he replied. “At present, however, we still
remain without any tangible clue, save that the proceeds of the crime
have passed from one person to another through the agency of yourself.”
“Their audacity was beyond comprehension!” I cried. “It really seems
inconceivable that I should have danced with the actual murderer, and
afterwards been induced to hand over to a pair of impostors the money
stolen from the unfortunate young man. I feel that I am to blame for
my shortsightedness.”
“Not at all, mademoiselle, not at all,” declared the detective with his
suave Gallic politeness. “With such a set of ingenious malefactors it
is easy to commit an error and fall a victim.”
“And what can be done?”
“We can only continue our investigations.”
“But the man in the owl’s dress? Tell me candidly, do you really
believe that he was the actual murderer?”
“He may have been. It was evident that for some hidden reason he had
some strong motive in passing the stolen notes into your possession.”
“But why?”
“Ah! that is one of the mysteries which we must try and solve. The man
was French, you say?”
“He spoke English admirably.”
“No word of French?”
“Not a single word. Yet he possessed an accent rather unusual.”
“He might have been a foreigner--an Italian or German--for aught you
know?” the detective suggested.
“No,” I answered reflectively. “His gestures were French. I believe
that he was actually French.”
“And the bogus police agents?”
“They too were French, undoubtedly. It would have been impossible to
deceive the Director of the Casino, himself a Frenchman.”
“Mademoiselle is quite right. I will at once see M’sieur le Directeur
and hear his statement. It is best,” he added, “that the matter should
remain a profound secret. Do not mention it, either of you, even to
your nearest friends. Publicity might very probably render futile all
our inquiries.”
“I understand,” I said.
“And mademoiselle will say no word to any one about it?”
I glanced at Ulrica inquiringly.
“Certainly,” she answered. “If m’sieur wishes the affair shall be kept
secret.”