The Rayner-Slade Amalgamation

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE JEWEL BOX

  Mademoiselle Zelie de Longarde, utterly careless of the fact that hertoilette was but half complete, that she wore no gown, and that thekimono which she had hastily assumed on discovering her loss had slippedaway from her graceful figure to fall in folds about her feet,interrupted the torrent of her eloquence to stare at the three men whom astartled waiter ushered into her sitting-room. Her first glance fell onthe concert-director, and she shook her fist at him.

  "Go away, Weiss!" she commanded, accompanying the vigorous action of herhand with an equally emphatic stamp of a shapely foot. "Go away atonce--go and play on the French horn; go and do anything you like tosatisfy your audience! Not one note do I sing until somebody finds me myjewels! Edinburgh's stole them, and Edinburgh'll have to give them back.It's no use your waiting here--I won't budge an inch. I--"

  She paused abruptly, suddenly catching sight of Fullaway, who at oncemoved towards her with a confidential and reassuring smile.

  "You!" she exclaimed. "What brings you here? And who's that withyou--surely the gentleman of whom I asked my way in some wild place theother night! What--"

  "Mademoiselle," said Fullaway, with a deep bow, "let me suggest to youthat the finest thing in this mundane state of ours is--reason.Suppose, now, that you complete your toilet, tell us what it is youhave lost; leave us--your devoted servants--to begin the task offinding it, and while we are so engaged, hasten with Mr. Weiss to thehall to fulfil your engagement? A packed audience awaitsyou--palpitating with sympathy and--"

  "And curiosity," interjected the aggrieved prima donna, as she threw ahasty glance at her deshabille and snatched up the kimono. "Pretty talk,Fullaway--very, and all intended to benefit Weiss there. Lost,indeed!--I've lost all my jewels, and up to now nobody"--here she flasheda wrathful glance at the hotel manager and the two detectives--"nobodyhas made a single suggestion about finding them!"

  Fullaway exchanged looks with the other men. Once more he assumed theoffice of spokesman.

  "Perhaps you have not told them precisely what it is they're to find," hesuggested. "What is it now, Mademoiselle? The Pinkie Pell necklace forinstance!"

  The prima donna, who was already retreating through the door of thebedroom on whose threshold she had been standing, flashed a scornful lookat her questioner over the point of her white shoulder.

  "Pinkie Pell necklace!" she exclaimed. "Everything's gone! The whole lot!Look at that--not so much as a ring left in it!"

  She pointed a slender, quivering finger to a box which stood, lid thrownopen, on a table in the sitting-room, by which the detectives werestanding, open-mouthed, and obviously puzzled. Allerdyke, following thepointing finger, noted that the box was a very ordinary-lookingaffair--a tiny square chest of polished wood, fitted with a brass swinghandle. It might have held a small type-writing machine; it might havebeen a medicine chest; it certainly did not look the sort of thing inwhich one would carry priceless jewels. But Mademoiselle de Longarde wasspeaking again.

  "That's what I always carried my jewels in--in their cases," she said."And they were all in there when I left Christiania a few days ago, andthat box has never been out of my sight--so to speak--since. And when Iopened it here to-night, wanting the things, it was as empty as it isnow. And if I behave handsomely, and go with Weiss there, to fulfil thisengagement, it'll only be on condition that you stop here, Fullaway, anddo your level best to get me my jewels back. I've done all I can--I'vetold the manager there, and I've told those two policemen, and not a manof them seems able to suggest anything! Perhaps you can."

  With that she disappeared and slammed the door of the bedroom, and thesix men, left in a bunch, looked at each other. Then one of thedetectives spoke, shaking his head and smiling grimly.

  "It's all very well to say we suggest nothing," he said. "We want somefacts to go on first. Up to now, all the lady's done is to storm at usand at everybody--she seems to think all Edinburgh's in a conspiracy torob her! We don't know any circumstances yet, except that she says she'sbeen robbed. Perhaps--"

  "Wait a bit," interrupted Fullaway. "Let us get her off to herengagement. Then we can talk. I suppose," he continued, turning to themanager, "she first announced her loss to you?"

  "She announced her loss to the whole world, in a way of speaking,"answered the manager, with a dry laugh.

  "She screamed it out over the main staircase into the hall! Everybody inthe place knows it by this time--she took good care they should. I don'tknow how she can have been robbed--so far as I can learn she's scarcelybeen out of these rooms since she came into them yesterday afternoon. Thegrand piano had been put in for her before she arrived, and she's spentall her time singing and playing--I don't believe she's ever left thehotel. And as I pointed out to her when she fetched me up, she found thisbox locked when she went to it--why didn't the thieves carry it bodilyaway? Why--"

  "Just so--just so!" broke in Fullaway. "I quite appreciate your points.But there is more in this than meets the first glance. Let us getMademoiselle off to her engagement, I say--that's the first thing. Thenwe can do business. Weiss," he continued, drawing the concert-directoraside, "you must arrange to let her appear as soon as possible after youget back to the hall, and to put forward her appearance in the secondhalf of your program, so that she can return here as soon aspossible--she'll only be in irrepressible fidgets until she knows what'sbeen done. And--you know what she is!--you ought to be very thankful thatshe's allowed herself to be persuaded to go with you. Mademoiselle," hewent on, as the prima donna, fully attired, but innocent of jewelledornament, swept into the room, "you are doing the right thing--bravely!Go, sing--sing your best, your divinest--let your admiring audiencerecognize that you have a soul above even serious misfortune. Meanwhile,allow me to order your supper to be served in this room, for eleveno'clock, and permit me and my friend, Mr. Allerdyke, to invite ourselvesto share it with you. Then--we will give you some news that willinterest and astonish you."

  "That only makes me all the more frantic to get back," exclaimed theprima donna. "Come along, now, Weiss--you've got a car outside, Isuppose? Hurry, then, and let me get it over."

  When the vastly relieved concert-director had led his bundle of silks andlaces safely out, Fullaway laughed and turned to the other men.

  "Now, gentlemen," he said, "perhaps we can have a little quiet talk aboutthis affair." He flung himself into a seat and nodded at thehotel-manager. "Just tell us exactly what's happened since Mademoisellearrived here," he said. "Let's get an accurate notion of all her doings.She came--when?"

  "She got here about the beginning of yesterday afternoon," answered themanager, who did not appear to be too well pleased about this disturbanceof his usual proceedings. "She has always had this suite of roomswhenever she has sung in Edinburgh before, and it was understood thatwhenever she wrote or wired for them we were to arrange for a grandpiano, properly tuned to concert-pitch, to be put in for her. She wrotefor the suite over a fortnight ago from Russia, and, of course, we hadeverything in readiness for her. She turned up, as I say, yesterday,alone--she explained something about her maid having been obliged toleave her on arrival in England, and since she came she's had theservices of one of our smartest chambermaids, whom she herself picked outafter carefully inspecting a whole dozen of them. That chambermaid cantell you that Mademoiselle's scarcely left her rooms since then, and it'san absolute mystery to me that any person could get in here, open thisbox, and abstract its contents. As I say--if anybody wanted to steal herjewels, why didn't he pick up this box and carry it bodily off instead ofhanging about to pick the lock? I don't believe--"

  "Ah, quite so!" interrupted Fullaway. "I quite agree with you. Now, atwhat time did Mademoiselle announce the loss of her jewels?"

  "Oh, about--say, an hour ago. This chambermaid--she's there inthe bedroom now--was helping her to dress for the concert.She--Mademoiselle--went to this box to get out what ornaments she wanted.According to the girl, she let out an awful scream, and, just as
she was,rushed to the head of the main stairs--these rooms, as you see, are onour first floor--and began to shout for me, for anybody, for everybody.The hall below was just then full of people--coming in and out of thedining-room and so on. She set the whole place going with the noise shemade," added the manager, visibly annoyed. "It would have been far betterif she'd shown some reserve--"

  "Reserve is certainly an admirable quality," commented Fullaway, "butit is foreign to young ladies of Mademoiselle's temperament.Well--and then?"

  "Oh, then, of course, I came up to her suite. She showed me this box. Ithad stood, she declared, on a table by her bedside, close to her pillows,from the moment she entered her rooms yesterday. She swore that it oughtto have been full of her jewels--in cases. When she had opened it--justbefore this--it was empty. Of course, she demanded the instant presenceof the police. Also, she insisted that I should at once, that minute,lock every door in the hotel, and arrest every person in it until theireffects and themselves could be rigorously searched and examined.Ridiculous!"

  "As you doubtless said," remarked Fullaway.

  "No--I said nothing. Instead I telephoned for police assistance. Thesetwo officers came. And," concluded the manager, with a sympathetic glanceat the detectives, "since they came Mademoiselle has done nothing butinsist on arresting every soul within these walls--she seems to thinkthere's a universal conspiracy against her."

  "Exactly," said Fullaway. "It is precisely what she would think--underthe circumstances. Now let us see this chambermaid."

  The manager opened the door of the bedroom, and called in a pretty,somewhat shy, Scotch damsel, who betrayed a becoming confusion at thesight of so many strangers. But she gave a plain and straightforwardaccount of her relations with Mademoiselle since the arrival ofyesterday. She had been in almost constant attendance on Mademoiselleever since her election to the post of temporary maid--had never left hersave at meal-times. The little chest had stood at Mademoiselle's bed-headalways--she had never seen it moved, or opened. There was a door leadinginto the bedroom from the corridor. Mademoiselle had never left the suiteof rooms since her arrival. She had talked that morning of going for adrive, but rain had begun to fall, and she had stayed in. Mademoisellehad seemed utterly horrified when she discovered her loss. For a momentshe had sunk on her bed as if she were going to faint; then she hadrushed out into the corridor, just as she was, screaming for the managerand the police.

  When the pretty chambermaid had retired, Fullaway took up the box fromwhich the missing property was believed to have been abstracted. Heexamined it with seeming indifference, yet he announced its particularsand specifications with business-like accuracy.

  "Well--this chest, cabinet, or box," he observed carelessly. "Let us lookat it. Here, gentlemen, we have a piece of well-made work. It is--yes,eighteen inches square all ways. It is made of--yes, rosewood. Itscorners, you see, are clamped with brass. It has a swing handle, fittedinto this brass plate which is sunk into the lid. It has also three brassletters sunk into that lid--Z. D. L. Its lock does not appear to be ofanything but an ordinary nature. Taking it altogether, I don't think thisis the sort of thing in which you would believe a lady was carryingseveral thousand pounds' worth of pearls and diamonds. Eh?"

  One of the detectives stirred uneasily--he did not quite understand theAmerican's light and easy manner, and he seemed to suspect him ofpersiflage.

  "We ought to be furnished with a list of the missing articles," he said."That's the first thing."

  "By no means," replied Fullaway. "That, my dear sir, is neither thefirst, nor the second, nor the third thing. There is much to do before weget to that stage. At present, you, gentlemen, cannot do anything.To-morrow morning, perhaps, when I have consulted with Mademoiselle deLongarde, I may call you in again--or call upon you. In the meantime,there's no need to detain you. Now," he continued, turning to themanager, when the detectives, somewhat puzzled and bewildered, had leftthe room, "will you see that your nicest supper is served--for three--inthis room at eleven o'clock, against Mademoiselle's return? Send up yourbest champagne. And do not allow yourself to dwell on Mademoiselle'sagitation on discovering her loss. That agitation was natural. If it isany consolation to you, I will give you a conclusion which may besatisfactory to your peace of mind as manager. What is it? Merelythis--that though Mademoiselle de Longarde has undoubtedly lost herjewels, they were certainly not stolen from her in this hotel!"