CHAPTER XXIV
THE SECRET OF THE CABINET
Godfrey bade me good-bye at the dock and hastened away to the officeto write his story, which, I could guess, would be concerned with themanners of Americans, especially with Grady's. As for me, that whiffof salt air had put an unaccustomed edge to my appetite, and I took acab to Murray's, deciding to spend the remainder of the eveningthere, over a good dinner. Except in a certain mood, Murray's doesnot appeal to me; the pseudo-Grecian temple in the corner, with watercascading down its steps, the make-believe clouds which float acrossthe ceiling, the tables of glass lighted from beneath--all this,ordinarily, seems trivial and banal; but occasionally, in an esotericmood, I like Murray's, and can even find something picturesque andromantic in bright gowns, and gleaming shoulders, and handsome facesseen amid these bizarre surroundings. And then, of course, there isalways the cooking, which leaves nothing to be desired.
I was in the right mood to-night for the enjoyment of the place, andI ambled through the dinner in a fashion so leisurely and trifled solong over coffee and cigarette that it was far past ten o'clock whenI came out again into Forty-second Street. After an instant'shesitation, I decided to walk home, and turned back toward Broadway,already filling with the after-theatre crowd.
Often as I have seen it, Broadway at night is still a fascinatingplace to me, with its blazing signs, its changing crowds, itsclanging street traffic, its bright shop-windows. Grady was right insaying that "gay Paree" had nothing like it; nor has any other citythat I know. It is, indeed, unique and thoroughly American; and Iwalked along it that night in the most leisurely fashion, savouringit to the full; pausing, now and then, for a glance at a shop-window,and stopping at the Hoffman House--now denuded, alas! of itsBouguereau--to replenish my supply of cigarettes.
Reaching Madison Square, at last, I walked out under the trees, as Ialmost always do, to have a look at the Flatiron Building, whiteagainst the sky. Then I glanced up at the Metropolitan tower, higherbut far less romantic in appearance, and saw by the big illuminatedclock that it was nearly half-past eleven.
I crossed back over Broadway, at last, and turned down Twenty-thirdStreet in the direction of the Marathon, when, just at the corner, Icame face to face with three men as they swung around the corner inthe same direction, and, with a little start, I recognised Grady andSimmonds, with M. Pigot between them. Evidently Grady had felt itincumbent upon himself to make good his promise in the most liberalmanner, and to display the wonders of the Great White Way from end toend--the ceremony no doubt involving the introduction of the strangerto a number of typical American drinks--and the result of all thiswas that Grady's legs wobbled perceptibly. As a matter of racialcomparison, I glanced at M. Pigot's, but they seemed in every waynormal.
"Hello, Lester," said Simmonds, in a voice which showed that he hadnot wholly escaped the influences of the evening's celebration; andeven Grady condescended to nod, from which I inferred that he wasfeeling very unusually happy.
"Hello, Simmonds," I answered, and, as I turned westward with them,he dropped back and; fell into step beside me.
"Piggott is certainly a wonder," he said. "A regular sport--wanted tosee everything and taste everything. He says Paris ain't in the sameclass with this town."
"Where are you going now?" I asked.
"We're going round to the station. Piggott says he's got a sensationup his sleeve for us--it's got something to do with that cabinet."
"With the cabinet?"
"Yes--that shiny thing Godfrey got me to lock up in a cell."
"Simmonds," I said, seriously, "does Godfrey know about this?"
"No," said Simmonds, looking a little uncomfortable. "I told Grady weought to 'phone him to come up, but the chief got mad and told me tomind my own business. Godfrey's been after him, you know, for a longtime."
"Suppose I 'phone him," I suggested. "There'd be no objection tothat, would there?"
"_I_ won't object," said Simmonds, "and I don't know who else will,since nobody else will know about it."
"All right. And drag out the preliminaries as long as you can, togive him a chance to get up here."
Simmonds nodded.
"I'll do what I can," he agreed, "but I don't see what good it willdo. The chief won't let him in, even if he does come up."
"We'll have to leave that to Godfrey. But he ought to be told. He'sresponsible for the cabinet being where it is."
"I know he is, and Piggott says it was a mighty wise thing to put itthere, though I'm blessed if I know why. Hurry Godfrey along as muchas you can. Good-night," and he followed his companions into thestation.
There was a drugstore at the corner with a public telephone station,and two minutes later, I was asking to be connected with the city-roomat the _Record_ office.
No, said a supercilious voice, Mr. Godfrey was not there; he had leftsome time before; no, the speaker did not know where he was going,nor when he would be back.
"Look here," I said, "this is important. I want to talk to the cityeditor--and be quick about it."
There was an instant's astonished silence.
"What name?" asked the voice.
"Lester, of Royce and Lester--and you might tell your city editorthat Godfrey is a close friend of mine."
The city editor seemed to understand, for I was switched on to him amoment later. But he was scarcely more satisfactory.
"We sent Godfrey up into Westchester to see a man," he said, "on atip that looked pretty good. He started just as soon as he got hisPigot story written, and he ought to be back almost any time. Isthere a message I can give him?"
"Yes--tell him Pigot is at the Twenty-third Street station, and thathe'd better come up as soon as he can."
"Very good. I'll give him the message the moment he comes in."
"Thank you," I said, but the disappointment was a bitter one.
In the street again, I paused hesitatingly at the curb, my eyes onthe red light of the police station. What was about to happen there?What was the sensation M. Pigot had up his sleeve? Had I any excusefor being present?
And then, remembering Grady's nod and his wobbly legs--remembering,too, that, at the worst, he could only put me out!--I turned towardthe light, pushed open the door and entered.
There was no one in sight except the sergeant at the desk.
"My name is Lester," I said. "You have a cabinet here belonging tothe estate of the late Philip Vantine."
"We've got a cabinet, all right; but I don't know who it belongs to."
"It belongs to Mr. Vantine's estate."
"Well, what about it?" he asked, looking at me to see if I was drunk."You haven't come in here at midnight to tell me that, I hope?"
"No; but I'd like to see the cabinet a minute."
"You can't see it to-night. Come around to-morrow. Besides, I don'tknow you."
"Here's my card. Either Mr. Simmonds or Mr. Grady would know me. Andto-morrow won't do."
The sergeant took the card, looked at it, and looked at me.
"Wait a minute," he said, at last, and disappeared through a door atthe farther side of the room. He was gone three or four minutes, andthe station-clock struck twelve as I stood there. I counted thesonorous, deliberate strokes, and then, in the silence that followed,my hands began to tremble with the suspense. Suppose Grady shouldrefuse to see me? But at last the sergeant came back.
"Come along," he said, opening the gate in the railing and motioningme through. "Straight on through that door," he added, and sat downagain at his desk.
With a desperate effort at careless unconcern, I opened the door andpassed through. Then, involuntarily, I stopped. For there, in themiddle of the floor, was the Boule cabinet, with M. Pigot standingbeside it, and Grady and Simmonds sitting opposite, flung carelesslyback in their chairs, and puffing at black cigars.
They all looked at me as I entered, Pigot with an evident contractionof the brows which showed how strongly his urbanity was strained;Simmonds with an affectation of surprise, and Grady
with a bland andsomewhat vacant smile. My heart rose when I saw that smile.
"Well, Mr. Lester," he said, "so you want to see this cabinet?"
"Yes," I answered; "it really belongs to the Vantine estate, youknow; I'm going to put in a claim for it--that is, if you are notwilling to surrender it without contest."
"Did you just happen to think of this in the middle of the night?" heinquired quizzically.
"No," I said, boldly; "but I saw you and Mr. Simmonds and thisgentleman"--with a bow to M. Pigot--"turn in here a moment ago, andit occurred to me that the cabinet might have something to do withyour visit. Of course, we don't want the cabinet injured. It is veryvaluable."
"Don't worry," said Grady, easily, "we're not going to injure it. AndI think we'll be ready to surrender it to you at any time afterto-night. Moosseer Piggott here wants to do a few tricks with itfirst. I suppose you have a certain right to be present--so, if youlike sleight-of-hand, sit down."
I hastily sought a chair, my heart singing within me. Then Iattempted to assume a mask of indifference, for M. Pigot wasobviously annoyed at my presence, and I feared for a moment that hisGallic suavity would be strained to breaking. But Grady, if henoticed his guest's annoyance, paid no heed to it; and I began tosuspect that the Frenchman's courtesy and good-breeding had ended byrubbing Grady the wrong way, they were in such painful contrast tohis own hob-nailed manners. Whatever the cause, there was a certainmalice in the smile he turned upon the Frenchman.
"And now, Moosseer Piggott," he said, settling back in his chair alittle farther, "we're ready for the show."
"What I have to tell you, sir," began M. Pigot, in a voice as hard assteel and cold as ice, "has, understand well, to be told inconfidence. It must remain between ourselves until the criminal issecured."
Grady's smile hardened a little. Perhaps he did not like theimperatives. At any rate, he ignored the hint.
"Understand, Mr. Lester?" he asked, looking at me, and I nodded.
I saw Pigot's eyes flame and his face flush with anger, for Grady'stone was almost insulting. For an instant I thought that he wouldrefuse to proceed; but he controlled himself.
Standing there facing me, in the full light, it was possible for meto examine him much more closely than had been possible on board theboat, and I looked at him with interest. He was typically French,--smooth-shaven, with a face seamed with little wrinkles and verywhite, eyes shadowed by enormously bushy lashes, and close-croppedhair as white as his face. But what attracted me most was the mouth--a mouth at once delicate and humourous, a little large and with thelips full enough to betoken vigour, yet not too full for fineness. Hewas about sixty years of age, I guessed; and there was about him theair of a man who had passed through a hundred remarkable experiences,without once losing his aplomb. Certainly he was not going to lose itnow.
"The story which I have to relate," he began in his careful English,clipping his words a little now and then, "has to do with the theftof the famous Michaelovitch diamonds. You may, perhaps, remember thecase."
I remembered it, certainly, for the robbery had been conceived andcarried out with such brilliancy and daring that its details had atonce arrested my attention--to say nothing of the fact that thediamonds, which formed the celebrated collection belonging to theGrand Duke Michael, of Russia,--sojourning in Paris becauseunappreciated in his native land and also because of the supremeattraction of the French capital to one of his temperament--werevalued at something like eight million francs.
"That theft," continued M. Pigot, "was accomplished in a manner atonce so bold and so unique that we were certain it could be the workof but a single man--a rascal named Crochard, who calls himself also'The Invincible'--a rascal who has given us very great trouble, butwhom we have never been able to convict. In this case, we had againsthim no direct evidence; we subjected him to an interrogation andfound that he had taken care to provide a perfect alibi; so we werecompelled to release him. We knew that it would be quite useless toarrest him unless we should find some of the stolen jewels in hispossession. He appeared as usual upon the boulevards, at the cafes,everywhere. He laughed in our faces. For us, it was not pleasant; butour law is strict. For us to accuse a man, to arrest him, and then tobe compelled to own ourselves mistaken, is a very serious matter. Butwe did what we could. We kept Crochard under constant surveillance;we searched his rooms and those of his mistress not once but manytimes. On one occasion, when he passed the barrier at Vincennes, ouragents fell upon him and searched him, under pretence of robbing him.
"He was, understand well, not for an instant deceived. He knewthoroughly what we were doing, for what we were searching. He knewalso that nowhere in Europe would he dare to attempt to sell a singleone of those jewels. We suspected that he would attempt to bring themto this country, and we warned your department of customs. For weknew that here he could sell all but the very largest not only almostwithout danger, but at a price far greater than he could obtain forthem in Europe. We closed every avenue to him, as we thought--andthen, all at once, he disappeared.
"For two weeks we heard nothing--then came the story of this manDrouet, killed by a stab on the hand. At once we recognised the workof Crochard, for he alone of living men possesses the secret of thepoison of the Medici. It is a fearful secret, which, in his wholelife, he had used but once--and that upon a man who had betrayedhim."
M. Pigot paused and passed his hand across his forehead.
"We were at a loss to understand Crochard's connection with Drouet,"M. Pigot continued. "Drouet, while a mere hanger-on of the cafes ofthe boulevards, was not a criminal. Then came the death of thatcreature Morel, in an effort to gain possession of this cabinet, andwe began to understand. We made inquiries concerning the cabinet; welearned its history, and the secret of its construction, and wearrived at a certain conclusion. It was to ascertain if thatconclusion is correct that I came to America."
"What is the conclusion?" queried Grady, who had listened to all thiswith a manifest impatience in strong contrast to my own absorbedinterest.
For I had already guessed what the conclusion was, and my pulses werebounding with excitement. "Our theory," replied M. Pigot, withoutthe slightest acceleration of speech, "is that the Michaelovitchdiamonds are concealed in this cabinet. Everything points to it--andwe shall soon see." As he spoke, he drew from his pocket a steelgauntlet, marvellously like the one Godfrey had used, and slipped itover his right hand. "When one attempts to fathom the secrets of_L'Invincible_" he said with a smile, "one must go armoured. Alreadythree men have paid with their lives the penalty of their rashness.""Three men!" repeated Grady, wonderingly. "Three," and Pigot checkedthem off upon his fingers. "First the man who gave his name asd'Aurelle, but who was really a blackmailer named Drouet; second, M.Vantine, the connoisseur; and third, the creature Morel. Of these,the only one that really matters is M. Vantine; his death was mostunfortunate, and I am sure that Crochard regrets it exceedingly. Hemight also regret my death, but, at any rate, I have no wish to bethe fourth. Not I," and he adjusted the gauntlet carefully. "Onemoment, monsieur," I said, bursting in, unable to remain longersilent. "This is all so wonderful--so thrilling--will you not tell usmore? For what were these three men searching? For the jewels?""Monsieur is as familiar with the facts as I," he answered, in asarcastic tone. "He knows that Drouet was killed while searching fora packet of letters, which would have compromised most seriously agreat lady; he knows that M. Vantine was killed while endeavouring toopen the drawer after its secret had been revealed to him by the maidof that same great lady, who was hoping to get a reward for them;Morel met death directly at the hands of Crochard because he was atraitor and deserved it." More and more fascinated, I stared at him.What secret was safe, I asked myself, from this astonishing man? Orwas he merely piecing together the whole story from such fragments ashe knew? "But even yet," I stammered, "I do not understand. We haveopened the secret drawer of the cabinet--there was no poison. Howcould it have killed Drouet and Mr. Vantine?"
"Very si
mply," said M. Pigot, coldly. "Death came to Drouetand M. Vantine because the maid of Madame la Duchesse mistookher left hand for her right. The drawer which contained theletters is at the left of the cabinet--see," and hepressed the series of springs, caught the little handle, andpulled the drawer open. "You will notice that the letters are gone,for the drawer was opened by Madame la Duchesse herself, in thepresence of M. Lestaire, who very gallantly permitted her to resumepossession of them. The drawer which Drouet and M. Vantine opened,"and here his voice became a little strident under the stress of greatemotion, "is on the right side of the cabinet, exactly opposite theother, and opened by a similar combination. But there is one greatdifference. About the first drawer, there is nothing to harm any one;the other is guarded by the deadliest poison the world has everknown. Observe me, gentlemen!" Impelled by an excitement so intenseas to be almost painful, I had risen from my chair and drawn near tohim. As he spoke, he bent above the desk and pressed three fingersalong the right edge. There was a sharp click, and a section of theinlay fell outward, forming a handle, just as I had seen it do on theother side of the desk. M. Pigot hesitated an instant--any man wouldhave hesitated before that awful risk!--then, catching the handlefirmly with his armoured hand, he drew it quickly out. There was asharp clash, as of steel on steel, and the drawer stood open.