I overslept, next morning, so outrageously that it was not until I had got a seat in a subway express that I had time to open my paper. My first glance was for the big head that would tell of the diamond robbery; and then I realised that no morning paper would have a word of it. For the robbery was only a few hours old—and yet, it seemed to me an age had passed since that moment when Godfrey had rushed in upon Grady and me. So the city moved on, as yet blissfully unconscious of the sensation which would be sprung with the first afternoon editions, and over which reporters and artists and photographers were even now, no doubt, labouring. I promised myself a happy half hour in reading Godfrey's story!
It was then that I remembered the appointment for twelve o'clock. The last act of the drama was yet to be staged, Godfrey had said, and he had also spoken of a bomb—a big one! I wondered what it could be, One thing was certain: if Godfrey had prepared it, its explosion would be startling enough!
There were a number of things at the office demanding my attention, and I was so late in getting there and the morning passed so rapidly that when the office-boy came in and announced that Mr. Grady and Mr. Simmonds were outside and wished to see me, I did not, for a moment, connect their visit with Godfrey. Then I looked at my watch, saw that it was five minutes to twelve, and realised that the actors were assembling.
"Show them in," I said, and they entered together a minute later.
Grady was evidently much perturbed. His usually florid face was drawn and haggard, his cheeks hung in ugly lines, there were dark pouches under his eyes, and the eyes themselves were blood-shot. I guessed that he had not been to bed; that he had spent the night searching for Crochard—and it was easy enough to see that the search had been unsuccessful. Simmonds, too, was looking rather shaky, and no doubt still felt the after-effects of that whiff of poison.
"I'm glad to see you are better, Simmonds," I said, shaking hands with him. "That was a close call."
"It certainly was," Simmonds agreed, sinking into a chair. "If I had got a little more of it, I'd never have waked up."
"Do you remember anything about it?"
"Not a thing. One minute we were sitting there talking together as nice as you please—and the next thing I knew was when I woke up in the bank."
"Where's that man Godfrey?" broke in Grady.
"He said he'd be here at noon," I said, and glanced at my watch."It's noon now. Were you to meet him here?"
Grady glanced at me suspiciously.
"Don't you know nothing about it?" he asked.
"I only know that Godfrey asked me to be here at noon to-day. What's up?"
"Blamed if I know," said Grady sulkily. "I got word from him that I'd better be here, and I thought maybe he might know something. I'm so dizzy over last night's business that I'm running around in circles this morning. But I won't wait for him. He can't make me do that! Come along, Simmonds."
"Wait a minute," I broke in, as the outer door opened. "Perhaps that's Godfrey, now."
And so it proved. He came in accompanied by a man whom I knew to beArthur Shearrow, chief counsel for theRecord.
Godfrey nodded all around.
"I think you know Mr. Shearrow," he said, placing on my desk a small leather bag he was carrying. "This is Mr. Lester, Mr. Shearrow," he added, and we shook hands. "The object of this conference, Lester," he concluded, "is to straighten out certain matters connected with the Michaelovitch diamonds—and incidentally to give theRecordthe biggest scoop it has had for months."
"I ain't here to fix up no scoop for theRecord", broke in Grady."That paper never did treat me right."
"It has treated you as well as you deserved," retorted Godfrey. "I'm going to talk plainly to you, Grady. Your goose is cooked. You can't hold on for an hour after last night's get-away becomes public."
"We'll see about that!" growled Grady, but the fight had evidently been taken out of him.
"I understand you wouldn't let Simmonds telephone for me last night?" queried Godfrey.
"That's right—it wasn't none of your business."
"Perhaps not. And yet, if I had been there, the cleverest thief in Paris, if not in the world, would be safe behind those chrome-nickle steel bars at the Twenty-third Street station, instead of at liberty to go ahead and rob somebody else."
"You're mighty cocksure," retorted Grady. "It's easy to be wise after it's all over."
"Well, I'm not going to argue with you," said Godfrey. "I admit it was a good disguise, and a clever idea—but, just the same, you ought to have seen through it. That's your business."
Grady mopped his face.
"Oh, of course!" he sneered. "I ought to have seen through it! I ought to have suspected, even when I found you tryin' to interview him; even when I got him off the boat myself; even when I went through his papers and found them all right—yes, even to the photograph on his passport! That's plain enough now, ain't it! If people only had as good foresight as they have hindsight, how easy it would be!"
"Look here, Grady," said Godfrey, more kindly, "I haven't anything against you personally, and I admit that it was foolish of me to stand there talking to Crochard and never suspect who he was. But that's all beside the mark. You're at the head of the detective bureau, and you're the man who is responsible for all this. You're energetic enough and all that; but you're not fit for your job—it's too big for you, and you know it. Take my advice, and go to the 'phone there and send in your resignation."
Grady stared at him as though unable to believe his ears.
"'Phone in my resignation!" he echoed. "What kind of a fool do you think I am?"
"I see you're a bigger one than I thought you were! Your pull can't help you any longer, Grady."
"Was it to tell me that you got me over here?"
"No," said Godfrey, "all this is just incidental—you began the discussion yourself, didn't you? I got you here to meet…."
The outer door opened again, and Godfrey looked toward it, smiling.
"Moosseer Piggott!" announced the office-boy.
And then I almost bounced from my seat, for I would have sworn that the man who stood on the threshold was the man who had opened the secret drawer.
He came forward, looking from face to face; then his eyes metGodfrey's and he smiled.
"Behold that I am here, monsieur," he said and I started anew at the voice, for it was the voice of Crochard. "I hope that I have not kept you waiting."
"Not at all, M. Pigot," Godfrey assured him, and placed a chair for him.
I could see Grady and Simmonds gripping the arms of their chairs and staring at the newcomer, their mouths open; and I knew the thought that was flashing through their brains. Was this Pigot? Or was the man who had opened the cabinet Pigot? Or was neither Pigot? Was it possible that this could be a different man than the one who had opened the cabinet?
I confess that some such thought flashed through my own mind—a suspicion that Godfrey, in some way, was playing with us.
Godfrey looked about at us, smiling as he saw our expressions.
"I went down the bay this morning and met theSavoie," he said. "I related to M. Pigot last night's occurrences, and begged him to be present at this meeting. He was good enough to agree. I assure you," he added, seeing Grady's look, "that thisisM. Pigot, of the ParisService du Sûreté,and not Crochard."
"Oh, yes," said M. Pigot, with a deprecating shrug. "I am myself—and greatly humiliated that I should have fallen so readily into the trap which Crochard set for me. But he is a very clever man."
"It was certainly a marvellous disguise," I said. "It was more than that—it was an impersonation."
"Crochard has had occasion to study me," explained M. Pigot, drily. "And he is an artist in whatever he does. But some day I shall get him—every pitcher to the well goes once too often. There is no hope of finding him here in New York?"
"I am afraid not," said Godfrey.
"Don't be too sure of that!" broke in Grady ponderously. "I ain't done yet—not by no manner of means!"
"Pardon me for not introducing you, M. Pigot," said Godfrey. "This gentleman is Mr. Grady, who has been the head of our detective bureau; this is Mr. Simmonds, a member of his staff; this is Mr. Lester, an attorney and friend of mine; and this is Mr. Shearrow, my personal counsel. Mr. Grady, Mr. Simmonds and Mr. Lester were present, last night," he added blandly, "when Crochard opened the secret drawer."
Grady reddened visibly, and even I felt my face grow hot. M. Pigot looked at us with a smile of amusement.
"It must have been a most interesting experience," he said, "to have seen Crochard at work. I have never had that privilege. But I regret that he should have made good his escape."
"More especially since he took the Michaelovitch diamonds with him,"I added.
"Before we go into that," said Godfrey, with a little smile, "there are one or two questions I should like to ask you, M. Pigot, in order to clear up some minor details which are as yet a little obscure. Is it true that the theft of the Michaelovitch diamonds was planned by Crochard?"
"Undoubtedly. No other thief in France would be capable of it."
"Is it also true that no direct evidence could be found against him?"
"That also is true, monsieur. He had arranged the affair so cleverly that we were wholly unable to convict him, unless we should find him with the stolen brilliants in his possession."
"And you were not able to do that?"
"No; we could discover no trace of the brilliants, though we searched for them everywhere."
"But you did not know of the Boule cabinet and of the secret drawer?"
"No; of that we knew nothing. I must examine that famous cabinet."
"It is worth examining. And it has an interesting history. But you did know, of course, that Crochard would seek a market for the diamonds here in America?"
"We knew that he would try to do so, and we did everything in our power to prevent it. We especially relied upon your customs department to search most thoroughly the belongings of every person with whom they were not personally acquainted."
"The customs people did their part," said Godfrey with a chuckle. "They have quite upset the country! But the diamonds got in, in spite of them. For, of course, a cabinet imported by a man so well known and so above suspicion as Mr. Vantine was passed without question!"
"Yes," agreed M. Pigot, a little bitterly. "It was a most clever plan; and now, no doubt, Crochard can sell the brilliants at his leisure."
"Not if you've got a good description of them," protested Grady. "I'll make it a point to warn every dealer in the country; I'll keep my whole force on the job; I'll get Chief Wilkie to lend me some of his men…."
"Oh, there is no use taking all that trouble," broke in Godfrey, negligently. "Crochard won't try to sell them."
"Won't try to sell them?" echoed Grady. "What's the reason he won't?"
"Because he hasn't got them," answered Godfrey, smiling with an evidently deep enjoyment of Grady's dazed countenance.
"Oh, come off!" said that worthy disgustedly. "If he hasn't got 'emI'd like to know who has!"
"I have," said Godfrey, and cleared my desk with a sweep of his arm. "Spread out your handkerchief, Lester," and as I dazedly obeyed, he picked up the little leather bag, opened it, and poured out its contents in a sparkling flood. "There," he added, turning to Grady, "are the Michaelovitch diamonds."
For an instant, we gazed at the glittering heap with dazzled eyes; then Grady, with an inarticulate cry, sprang to his feet and picked up a handful of the diamonds, as though to convince himself of their reality.
"But I don't understand!" he gasped. "Have you got Croshar too?"
"No such luck," said Godfrey.
"Do you mean to say he'd give these up without a fight!"
The same thought was in my own mind; if Godfrey had run down Crochard and got the diamonds, without a life-and-death struggle, that engaging rascal must be much less formidable than I had supposed.
"My dear Grady," said Godfrey, "I haven't seen Crochard since the minute you took him off the boat. I'd have had him, if you had let Simmonds call me. That's what I had planned. But he was too clever for us. I knew that he would come to-day…."
"You knew that he would come to-day?" repeated Grady blankly. "How did you know that—or is it merely hot air?"
"I knew that he would come," said Godfrey, curtly, "because he wrote and told me so."
M. Pigot laughed a dry little laugh.
"That is a favourite device of his," he said; "and he always keeps his word."
"The trouble was," continued Godfrey, "that I didn't look for him so early in the day, and so he was able to send me on a wild-goose chase after a sensation that didn't exist. There's where I was a fool. But I discovered the secret drawer ten days ago—while the cabinet was still at Vantine's—the evening after the veiled lady got her letters. It was easy enough. I am surprised you didn't think of it, Lester."
"Think of what?" I asked.
"Of the key to the mystery. The drawer containing the letters was on the left side of the desk; I saw at once that there must be another drawer, opened in the same way, on the right side."
"I didn't see it," I said. "I don't see it yet."
"Think a minute. Why was Drouet killed? Because he opened the wrong drawer. He pressed the combination at the right side of the desk, instead of that at the left side. The fair Julie must have thought the drawer was on the right side, instead of the left. It was a mistake very easy to make, since her mistress doubtless had her back turned when Julie saw her open the drawer. The suspicion that it was Julie's mistake becomes certainty when she shows the combination to Vantine, and he is killed, too. Besides, the veiled lady herself made a remark which revealed the whole story."
"I didn't notice it," I said, resignedly. "What was it?"
"That she was accustomed to opening the drawer with her left hand, instead of with her right. After that, there could be no further doubt. So I discovered the drawer very simply. It had to be there."
"Yes," I said; "and then?"
"Then I removed the jewels, took them down to a dealer in paste gems and duplicated them as closely as I could. I had a hard time getting a good copy of this big rose-diamond."
He picked it from the heap and held it up between his fingers.
"It's a beauty, isn't it?" he asked.
M. Pigot smiled a dry smile.
"It is the Mazarin," he said, "and is worth three million francs.There is a copy of it at the Louvre."
"So that's true, is it?" I asked. "Crochard told us the story."
"It is unquestionably true," said M. Pigot. "It is not a secret—it is merely something which every one has forgotten."
"Well," continued Godfrey, "after I got the duplicates, I rolled them up in the cotton packets, and placed them back in the drawer, being careful to put the Mazarin at the bottom, where I had found it."
"It was lucky you thought of that," I said, "or Crochard would have suspected something."
Godfrey looked at me with a smile.
"My dear Lester," he said, "he knew that the game was up the instant he opened the first packet. Do you suppose he would be deceived? Not by the best reproduction ever made!"
And then I remembered the slow flush which had crept into Crochard's cheeks as he opened that first packet!
"I didn't expect to deceive him," Godfrey explained. "I just wanted to give him a little surprise. And to think I wasn't there to see it!"
"But if he knew they were imitations," I protested, "why should he go to all that trouble to steal them?"
"That is what puzzled me last night," said Godfrey; "and, for that matter, it puzzles me yet."
"Maybe he's got the real stones, after all," suggested Grady, who had been listening to all this with incredulous countenance. "The story sounds fishy to me. Maybe these are the imitations."
M. Pigot came forward and picked up the Mazarin and looked at it.
"This one, at least, is real," he said, after a moment. "And I have no doubt the others are," he added, turning them over with his finger.
Grady, still incredulous, picked up one of the brilliants, went to the window, and drew it down the pane. It left a deep scratch behind it.
"Yes," he admitted reluctantly, "I guess they're diamonds, all right," and he sat down again.
"And now, gentlemen," continued Godfrey, who had watched Grady's byplay with a tolerant smile, "I am ready to turn these diamonds over to you. I should like you to count them, and give me a receipt for them."
"And then, of course, you will write the story," sneered Grady, "and give yourself all the credit."
"Well," asked Godfrey, looking at him, "do you think you deserve any?" And Grady could only crimson and keep silent. "As for the story, it is already written. It will be on the streets in ten minutes—and it will create a sensation. Please count the diamonds. You will find two hundred and ten of them."
"That is the exact number stolen from the Grand Duke," remarked M.Pigot, and fell to counting. The number was two hundred and ten.
"Mr. Shearrow has the receipt," Godfrey added, and Shearrow took a paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and read the contents.
It proved to be not only a receipt, but a full statement of the facts of the case, without omitting the details of the robbery and the credit due theRecordfor the recovery of the diamonds. Grady's face grew redder and redder as the reading proceeded.
"I won't sign no such testimonial as that," he blustered. "Not on your life I won't!"
"You will sign it, will you not, M. Pigot?" asked Godfrey.
"Certainly," said the Frenchman; "it is a recognition of your services very well deserved," and he stepped forward and signed it with a flourish.
"Now, Simmonds," said Godfrey.
"No you don't!" broke in Grady. "Stay where you are, Simmonds. I forbid you to sign that. Remember, I'm your superior officer."
"No, he's not, Simmonds," said Godfrey, quietly. "He hasn't been an officer at all for an hour and more."
Grady sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing, and strode towardGodfrey.
"What do you mean by that?" he shouted.
"I mean," said Godfrey, looking him squarely in the eye, "that Mr. Shearrow and myself had a talk with the mayor this morning, and laid before him certain evidence in our possession—this latest case among others—and that your resignation was accepted at noon to-day."
"My resignation!" snorted Grady. "I never wrote one!"
"Tell the public that, if you want to," retorted Godfrey coldly. "That's your affair. You ought to have 'phoned it in when I told you to. Now, Simmonds."
Grady stood glaring about him an instant, like an enraged bull, and I half expected him to hurl himself on Godfrey; instead, he crushed his hat upon his head, strode to the door, jerked it open, and banged it behind him.
"Now, Simmonds," Godfrey repeated, as the echo died away, andSimmonds came forward and signed. I witnessed the signatures, andGodfrey, with more eagerness than he had shown in the whole affair,caught up the paper and sprang with it to the door.
"Get that down to the office, as quick as you can," he said, to a man outside. "I'll 'phone instructions. That," he added, closing the door and turning back to us, "is my reward for all this—or, rather, theRecord'sreward. And now, gentlemen, Mr. Shearrow has his car below, and I think we would better drive around to some safe-deposit box with this plunder."
It was perhaps ten days afterwards that Godfrey dropped in to see me one evening. I was just back from a week on Cape Cod, which had done me a world of good; and, I need hardly say, was glad to see him.
"You're looking normal again," he said, surveying me, as he sat down. "I was worried about you for a while."
"I never felt better. I told you that all I needed was to have that mystery solved."
"And it was solved on schedule time, wasn't it," he smiled; "though not quite in the way I had anticipated. Do you know, Lester," he added, "I am going to claim that cabinet."
"On what grounds?" I demanded.
"Because the man who owned it gave it to me," and he got a paper out of his pocket-book and handed it across to me.
I opened it and recognised the delicate and feminine writing which I had seen once before.
"My dear sir[the letter ran]:
"I find that I made the mistake of underestimating you, and I present you my sincere apologies. I trust that, at some future time, it may be my privilege to be again engaged with you—the result is certain to be most interesting. But at present I find that I must return to Europe byLa Bretagne; since, after the trouble I have taken, it is impossible that I should consent to part with the brilliants of His Highness the Grand Duke. As a slight souvenir of my high regard, I trust you will be willing to accept the cabinet Boule, which I am certain that good M. Lester will surrender to you if you will show to him this letter. The cabinet is not only interesting in itself, but will be doubly so to you because of the part it has played in our little comedy. And I should like to know that it adorns a corner of your home.
"Till we meet again, dear sir, believe me
"Your sincere admirer,
"CROCHARD, L'Invincible!"
"He's a good sport, isn't he?" asked Godfrey, as I silently handed the letter back to him. "What do you say about the cabinet?"
"I suppose there is no doubt that Crochard bought it," I said.
"So that it is mine now?"
"Yes; but I'm going to solicit a bribe."
"Go ahead and solicit it."
"I want a souvenir, too," I said. "I'd like awfully well to have that letter—besides," I added, "it will be a kind of receipt, you know, if anybody ever questions my giving you the cabinet."
Godfrey laughed and threw the letter across the table to me.
"It's yours," he said. "And I'll send for the cabinet to-morrow. I suppose it is still at the station?"
"Yes; I haven't had time to put in a claim for it. But, Godfrey," I added, "when didLa Bretagnesail?"
"A week ago to-day. She is due at Havre in the morning."
"Did you warn them?"
"Warn them of what?"
"That Crochard is after the diamonds. They went back onLaBretagne, I suppose?"
"Yes—and Pigot went with them. So why should I warn any one? Surely they know that Crochard will get those diamonds if he can. It has become a sort of point of honour with him, I imagine. It is up to them to take care of them."
"That oughtn't to be difficult," I said. "The strong-room of a liner is about the safest place on earth."
"Yes," Godfrey agreed, and blew a meditative ring toward the ceiling.
And presently he went away without saying anything more.
But the more I thought of it, the more the inflection he had given that word seemed an interrogation rather than an affirmation.
And when I opened my paper next morning, I more than half expected to be greeted with a black headline announcing the looting of the strong-room ofLa Bretagne. But there was no such headline, and with a sigh, half of relief and half of disappointment, I turned to the other news.
But two weeks later, a black headlinedidcatch my eye:
Fraud Discovered When the Grand Duke Michael Sends them to aJeweller to be Reset.
I had no need to read the article which followed, for I saw in a flash what had occurred. I saw, too, why Crochard had retained the paste jewels—he had a use for them! How or where the substitution had been made, I could only guess; but one thing was certain: the two weeks which had elapsed before the theft was discovered had given him ample opportunity to dispose of his plunder. I felt sorry for the Grand Duke; sorrier still for that admirable M. Pigot; but, after all, one could not but admire the cleverness of the man who had despoiled them.
Who, I wondered, had bought the Mazarin? Surely there was a diamond most difficult to sell.
It could, of course, be cut up—- but that would be sacrilege!
That question was answered, before long, in an unexpected way—a way which filled many columns in the papers, which delighted the comedy-loving French, and which gave Crochard a unique advertisement. One morning, in the personal column ofLe Matin, appeared a notice, of which this is the English:
"To M. the Director of the Museum of the Louvre:
"It has been my good fortune to come into possession of the rose-diamond known as the Mazarin. It is my wish to restore it to your collection, in order that it may no longer be necessary to delude the public with an imitation of coloured glass. It will give me great pleasure to present this brilliant to you, with my compliments, provided His Highness, the Grand Duke Michael, who preceded me in possession of the diamond, will join me in the gift. Should he refuse, it will be my melancholy duty to cleave the diamond into a number of smaller stones, as it is too large for my use. But I hope that he will not refuse.
"CROCHARD, L'Invincible!"
What could the Grand Duke do? To have refused, would have made him the butt of the boulevards. Besides, he was, after all, losing nothing which he had not already lost. So, with a better grace than one might have expected, he consented to join in the restoration. Two days later, the director of the Louvre discovered a packet upon his desk. He opened it and found within the Mazarin. When you visit the Louvre, you will see it in the place of honour in the glass case in the centre of the Gallery of Apollo, with an attendant on guard beside it. But already the circumstances of its restoration are fading from the public memory.
And Crochard? I do not know. Each morning, I read first the news from Paris, searching for L'Invincible in some new incarnation. I have his letter framed and hanging above my desk, and every day I read it over. One sentence, especially, is forever running in my head:
"I trust that, at some future time, it may be my privilege to be again engaged with you—the result is certain to be most interesting."
And I trust that it may be my privilege, also, to be present at that engagement!