IIITHE ADVENTURE OF MRS. BURLINGAME'S DIAMOND STOMACHER
I had seen the marvellous creation very often at the opera, and in many waysresented it. Not that I was in the least degree a victim to envy, hatred,and malice towards those who are possessed of a superabundance of thisworld's good things--far from it. I rejoice in the great fortunes of earthbecause, with every dollar corralled by the superior energies of the multi-millionaires, the fewer there are for other men to seek, and until we stopseeking dollars and turn our minds to other, finer things, there will be nohope of peace and sweet content upon this little green ball we inhabit. Myresentment of Mrs. Burlingame's diamond stomacher was not then based on envyof its possession, but merely upon the twofold nuisance which it created atthe opera-house, as the lady who wore it sat and listened to the strains ofWagner, Bizet, or Gounod, mixed in with the small-talk of Reggie Stockson,Tommie de Coupon, and other lights of the social firmament. In the firstplace, it caused the people sitting about me in the high seats of the opera-house to chatter about it and discuss its probable worth every time the ladymade her appearance in it, and I had fled from the standee part of the houseto the top gallery just to escape the talkers, and, if possible, to get mymusic straight, without interruptions of any sort whatsoever on the side. Inthe second place, the confounded thing glittered so that, from where I sat,it was as dazzling as so many small mirrors flashing in the light of thesun. It seemed as if every electric light in the house found some kind of arefractor in the thousands of gems of which it was composed, and many of thebrilliant light effects of the stage were dimmed in their lustre by thepersistent intrusion of Mrs. Burlingame's glory upon my line of vision.
Hence in was that, when I picked up my morning paper and read in greatflaring head-lines on the front page that Mrs. Burlingame's diamondstomacher had been stolen from her at her Onyx Cottage at Newport, I smiledbroadly, and slapped the breakfast-table so hard in my satisfaction thateven the shredded-wheat biscuits flew up into the air and caught in thechandelier.
"Thank Heaven for that!" I said. "Next season I shall be able to enjoy myopera undisturbed."
"I little thought, at that blissful moment, how closely indeed were my ownfortunes to be connected with that wonderful specimen of the jeweler'shandicraft, but an hour later I was made aware of the first link in thechain that, in a measure, bound me to it. Breakfast over, I went to my deskto put the finishing touches to a novel I had written the week before, whenword came up on the telephone from below that a gentleman from _Busybody'sMagazine_ wished to see me on an important matter of business.
"Tell him I'm already a subscriber," I called down, supposing the visitor tobe merely an agent. "I took the magazine, and a set of Chaucer in arevolving bookcase, from one of their agents last month and have paid mydollar."
In a moment another message came over the wire.
"The gentleman says he wants to see you about writing a couple of full-pagesonnets for the Christmas number," the office man 'phoned up.
"Show him up," I replied, instantly.
Two minutes later a rather handsome man, with a fine eye and a long, flowinggray beard, was ushered into my apartment.
"I am Mr. Stikes, of _Busybody's,_ Mr. Jenkins," he said, with a twinkle inhis eye. "We thought you might like to contribute to our Christmas issue. Wewant two sonnets, one on the old Christmas and the other on the new. Wecan't offer you more than a thousand dollars apiece for them, but--"
Something caught in my throat, but I managed to reply. "I might shade myterms a trifle since you want as many as two," I gurgled. "And I assume youwill pay on acceptance?"
"Certainly," he said, gravely. "Could you let me have them, say--thisafternoon?"
I turned away so that he would not see the expression of joy on my face, andthen there came from behind me a deep chuckle and the observation in afamiliar voice:
"You might throw in a couple of those Remsen coolers, too, while you'reabout it, Jenkins."
I whirled about as if struck, and there, in place of the gray-beardededitor, stood--Raffles Holmes.
"Bully disguise, eh!" he said, folding up his beard and putting it in hispocket.
"Ye-e-es," said I, ruefully, as I thought of the vanished two thousand. "Ithink I preferred you in disguise, though, old man," I added.
"You won't when you hear what I've come for," said he. "There's $5000 apiecein this job for us."
"To what job do you refer?" I asked.
"The Burlingame case," he replied. "I suppose you read in the papers thismorning how Mrs. Burlingame's diamond stomacher has turned up missing."
"Yes," said I, "and I'm glad of it."
"You ought to be," said Holmes, "since it will put $5000 in your pocket. Youhaven't heard yet that there is a reward of $10,000 offered for itsrecovery. The public announcement has not yet been made, but it will be into-night's papers, and we are the chaps that are going to get the reward."
"But how?" I demanded.
"Leave that to me," said he. "By-the-way, I wish you'd let me leave thissuit-case of mine in your room for about ten days. It holds some importantpapers, and my shop is turned topsy-turvy just now with the painters."
"Very well," said I. "I'll shove it under my bed."
"I took the suit-case as Holmes had requested, and hid it away in mybedroom, immediately returning to the library, where he sat smoking one ofmy cigars as cool as a cucumber. There was something in his eye, however,that aroused my suspicion as soon as I entered.
"See here, Holmes," said I. "I can't afford to be mixed up in any shadybusiness like this, you know. Have you got that stomacher?"
"No, I haven't," said he. "Honor bright--I haven't."
I eyed him narrowly.
"I think I understand the evasion," I went on. "_You_ haven't got it becauseI have got it--it's in that suit-case under my bed."
"Open it and see for yourself," said he. "It isn't there."
"But you know where it is?" I demanded.
"How else could I be sure of that $10,000 reward?" he asked.
"Where is it?" I demanded.
"It--er--it isn't located yet--that is, not finally," said he. "And it won'tbe for ten days. Ten days from now Mrs. Burlingame will find it herself andwe'll divvy on the reward, my boy, and not a trace of dishonesty in thewhole business."
And with that Raffles Holmes filled his pockets with cigars from my stores,and bidding me be patient went his way.
The effect of his visit upon my nerves was such that any more work that daywas impossible. The fear of possible complications to follow upset mewholly, and, despite his assurance that the suit-case was innocent ofsurreptitiously acquired stomachers, I could not rid my mind of thesuspicion that he made of my apartment a fence for the concealment of hisbooty. The more I thought of it the more was I inclined to send for him andrequest him to remove the bag forthwith, and yet, if it should so happenthat he had spoken the truth, I should by that act endanger our friendshipand possibly break the pact, which bade fair to be profitable. Suddenly Iremembered his injunction to me to look for myself and see if the stomacherreally was concealed there, and I hastened to act upon it. It might havebeen pure bluff on his part, and I resolved not to be bluffed.
The case opened easily, and the moment I glanced into it my suspicions wereallayed. It contained nothing but bundle after bundle of letters tiedtogether with pink and blue ribbons, one or two old daguerreotypes, somelocks of hair, and an ivory miniature of Raffles Holmes himself as aninfant. Not a stomacher, diamond or otherwise, was hid in the case, nor anyother suspicious object, and I closed it with a sheepish feeling of shamefor having intruded upon the sacred correspondence and relics of the happychildhood days of my new friend.
That night, as Holmes had asserted, a reward of $10,000 was offered for therecovery of the Burlingame stomacher, and the newspapers for the next tendays were full of the theories of detectives of all sorts, amateur,professional, and reportorial. Central Office was after it in one place,others sought it elsewhere. The editor
of one New York paper printed a fulllist of the names of the guests at Mrs. Burlingame's dinner the night thetreasure was stolen, and, whether they ever discovered it for themselves ornot, several bearers of highly honored social names were shadowed byreporters and others everywhere they went for the next week. At the end offive days the reward was increased to $20,000, and then Raffles Holmes'sname began to appear in connection with the case. Mrs. Burlingame herselfhad sent for him, and, without taking it out of the hands of others, hadpersonally requested him to look into the matter. He had gone to Newport andlooked the situation over there. He had questioned all the servants in hertwo establishments at Newport and New York, and had finally assured the ladythat, on the following Tuesday morning, he would advise her by wire of thedefinite location of her missing jewel.
During all this time Holmes had not communicated with me at all, and I beganto fear that, offended by my behavior at our last meeting, he had cut me outof his calculations altogether, when, just as I was about to retire onSunday night, he reappeared as he had first come to me--stealing up thefire-escape; and this time he wore a mask, and carried unquestionably aburglar's kit and a dark lantern. He started nervously as he caught sight ofme reaching up to turn off the light in the library.
"Hang it call, Jenkins!" he cried. "I thought you'd gone off to the countryfor the week-end."
"No," said I. "I meant to go, but I was detained. What's up?"
"Oh, well--I may as well out with it," he answered. "I didn't want you toknow, but--well, watch and see."
With this Raffles Holmes strode directly to my bookcase, removed my extra-illustrated set of Fox's _Book of Martyrs,_ in five volumes, from theshelves, and there, resting upon the shelf behind them, glittered nothingless than the missing stomacher!
"Great Heavens, Holmes!" I said, "what does this mean? How did thosediamonds get there?"
"I put them there myself while you were shoving my suit-case under your bedthe other night," said he.
"You told me you didn't have them," I said, reproachfully.
"I didn't when I spoke--_you_ had them," said he.
"You told me they had not been finally located," I persisted, angrily.
"I told you the truth. They were only temporarily located," he answered."I'm going to locate them definitely to-night, and to-morrow Mrs. Burlingamewill find them--"
"Where?" I cried.
"_In her own safe in her New York house!_" said Raffles Holmes.
"You--"
"Yes--I took them from Newport myself--very easy job, too," said RafflesHolmes. "Ever since I saw them at the opera last winter I have had this inmind, so when Mrs. Burlingame gave her dinner I served as an extra butlerfrom Delmonico's--drugged the regular chap up on the train on his way upfrom New York--took his clothes, and went in his place. That night I rifledthe Newport safe of the stomacher, and the next day brought it here. To-night I take it to the Burlingame house on Fifth Avenue, secure entrancethrough a basement door, to which, in my capacity of detective, I haveobtained the key, and, while the caretakers sleep, Mrs. Burlingame's diamondstomacher will be placed in the safe on the first floor back.
"To-morrow morning I shall send Mrs. Burlingame this message: _'Have youlooked in your New York safe?_ [Signed] Raffles Holmes,'" he continued. "Shewill come to town by the first train to find out what I mean; we will go toher residence; she will open the safe, and--$20,000 for us."
"By Jove! Holmes, you are a wonder," said I. "This stomacher is worth$250,000 at the least," I added, as I took the creation in my hand. "Pot ofmoney that!"
"Yes," said he, with a sigh, taking the stomacher from me and fondling it."The Raffles in me tells me that, but the Sherlock Holmes in my veins--well,I can't keep it, Jenkins, if that is what you mean."
I blushed at the intimation conveyed by his words, and was silent; andHolmes, gathering up his tools and stuffing the stomacher in the capaciousbosom of his coat, bade me au revoir, and went out into the night.