CHAPTER III
Stuyvesant Randolph, millionaire, owner of Seven Oaks and host of themasked ball, was able to tell the police only what happened, and not themanner of its happening. Briefly, this was that a thief, cunninglydisguised as a Burglar with dark lantern and revolver in hand, hadsurreptitiously attended the masked ball by entering at the front doorand presenting an invitation card. And when Mr. Randolph got this far inhis story even _he_ couldn't keep his face straight.
The sum total of everyone's knowledge, therefore, was this:
Soon after the grand march a servant entered the smoking room and foundthe Burglar there alone, standing beside an open window, looking out.This smoking room connected, by a corridor, with a small dining roomwhere the Randolph gold plate was kept in ostentatious seclusion. Asthe servant entered the smoking-room the Burglar turned away from thewindow and went out into the ballroom. He did not carry a bundle; he didnot appear to be excited.
Fifteen or twenty minutes later the servant discovered that elevenplates of the gold service, valued roughly at $15,000, were missing. Heinformed Mr. Randolph. The information, naturally enough, did notelevate the host's enjoyment of the ball, and he did things hastily.
Meanwhile--that is, between the time when the Burglar left thesmoking-room and the time when he passed out the front door--the Burglarhad talked earnestly with a masked Girl of the West. It was establishedthat, when she left him in the conservatory, she went out the frontdoor. There she was joined by the Burglar, and then came theirsensational flight in the automobile--a 40 horse-power car that movedlike the wind. The automobile in which the Burglar had gone to SevenOaks was left behind; thus far it had not been claimed.
The identity of the Burglar and the Girl made the mystery. It was easyto conjecture--that's what the police said--how the Burglar got awaywith the gold plate. He went into the smoking-room, then into thedining-room, dropped the gold plate into a sack and threw the sack outof a window. It was beautifully simple. Just what the Girl had to dowith it wasn't very clear; perhaps a score or more articles of jewelry,which had been reported missing by guests, engaged her attention.
It was also easy to see how the Burglar and the Girl had been able toshake off pursuit by the police in two other automobiles. The car theyhad chosen was admittedly the fastest of the scores there, the night waspitch-dark, and, besides, a Burglar like that was liable to do anything.Two shots had been fired at him by the lumpy courtier, who was reallyDetective Cunningham, but they had only spurred him on.
These things were easy to understand. But the identity of the pair was adifferent and more difficult proposition, and there remained the task ofyanking them out of obscurity. This fell to the lot of DetectiveMallory, who represented the Supreme Police Intelligence of theMetropolitan District, happily combining a No. 11 shoe and a No. 6 hat.He was a cautious, suspicious, far-seeing man--as police detectives go.For instance, it was he who explained the method of the theft with alucidity that was astounding.
Detective Mallory and two or three of his satellites heard Mr.Randolph's story, then the statements of his two men who had attendedthe ball in costume, and the statements of the servants. After all thisMr. Mallory chewed his cigar and thought violently for several minutes.Mr. Randolph looked on expectantly; he didn't want to miss anything.
"As I understand it, Mr. Randolph," said the Supreme Police Intelligenceat last, "each invitation-card presented at the door by your guests borethe name of the person to whom it was issued?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Randolph.
"Ah!" exclaimed the detective shrewdly. "Then we have a clue."
"Where are those cards, Curtis?" asked Mr. Randolph of the servant whohad received them at the door.
"I didn't know they were of further value, sir, and they were thrownaway--into the furnace."
Mr. Mallory was crestfallen.
"Did you notice if the card presented at the door by the Burglar on theevening of the masked ball at Seven Oaks bore a name?" he asked. Heliked to be explicit like that.
"Yes, sir. I noticed it particularly because the gentleman was dressedso queerly."
"Do you remember the name?"
"No, sir."
"Would you remember it if you saw it or heard it again?"
The servant looked at Mr. Randolph helplessly.
"I don't think I would, sir," he answered.
"And the Girl? Did you notice the card she gave you?"
"I don't remember her at all, sir. Many of the ladies wore wraps whenthey came in, and her costume would not have been noticeable if she hadon a wrap."
The Supreme Intelligence was thoughtful for another few minutes. At lasthe turned to Mr. Randolph again.
"You are certain there was only _one_ man at that ball dressed as aBurglar?" he asked.
"Yes, thank Heaven," replied Mr. Randolph fervently. "If there'd beenanother one they might have taken the piano."
The Supreme Intelligence frowned.
"And this girl was dressed like a Western girl?" he asked.
"Yes. A sort of Spirit-of-the-West costume."
"And no other woman there wore such a dress?"
"No," responded Mr. Randolph.
"No," echoed the two detectives.
"Now, Mr. Randolph, how many invitations were issued for the ball?"
"Three or four hundred. It's a big house," Mr. Randolph apologised, "andwe tried to do the thing properly."
"How many persons do you suppose actually attended the ball?"
"Oh, I don't know. Three hundred, perhaps."
Detective Mallory thought again.
"It's unquestionably the work of two bold and clever professionalcrooks," he said at last judicially, and his satellites hung on hiswords eagerly. "It has every ear-mark of it. They perhaps planned thething weeks before, and forged invitation-cards, or perhaps stolethem--perhaps stole them."
He turned suddenly and pointed an accusing finger at the servant,Curtis.
"Did you notice the handwriting on the card the Burglar gave you?" hedemanded.
"No, sir. Not particularly."
"I mean, do you recall if it was different in any way from thehandwriting on the other cards?" insisted the Supreme Intelligence.
"I don't think it was, sir."
"If it had been would you have noticed it?"
"I might have, sir."
"Were the names written on all the invitation-cards by the same hand,Mr. Randolph?"
"Yes: my wife's secretary."
Detective Mallory arose and paced back and forth across the room withwrinkles in his brow.
"Ah!" he said at last, "then we know the cards were not forged, butstolen from someone to whom they had been sent. We know this much,therefore----" he paused a moment.
"Therefore all that must be done," Mr. Randolph finished the sentence,"is to find from whom the card or cards were stolen, who presented themat my door, and who got away with the plate."
The Supreme Intelligence glared at him aggressively. Mr. Randolph's facewas perfectly serious. It was his gold plate, you know.
"Yes, that's it," Detective Mallory assented. "Now we'll get after thisthing right. Downey, you get that automobile the Burglar left at SevenOaks and find its owner; also find the car the Burglar and the Girlescaped in. Cunningham, you go to Seven Oaks and look over the premises.See particularly if the Girl left a wrap--she didn't wear one away fromthere--and follow that up. Blanton, you take a list of invited gueststhat Mr. Randolph will give you, check off those persons who are knownto have been at the ball, and find out all about those who were not,and--follow that up."
"That'll take weeks!" complained Blanton.
The Supreme Intelligence turned on him fiercely.
"Well?" he demanded. He continued to stare for a moment, and Blantonwrinkled up in the baleful glow of his superior's scorn. "And,"Detective Mallory added magnanimously, "I will do the rest."
Thus the campaign was planned against the Burglar and the Girl.