The Ivory Snuff Box. Kummer Frederic Arnold

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ He could not have gone more than a few hundred feet. Capture would have been inevitable."

      "Did you find the man in the room?"

      "He was just leaving it as I came up."

      "What did you do then?"

      "I ordered him back into the room, and questioned him sharply. He denied all knowledge of the matter, and appeared to be deeply hurt at my suspicions."

      "Did you believe him?"

      "I do not know. The matter is incomprehensible. Noël has been in my service for eight years. I supposed him absolutely incorruptible – absolutely honest. He also insists that after I left the bedroom, and came into the dressing-room to be shaved, he did not leave me, nor again enter the bedroom; in which case, he could not have committed the theft."

      "Is this true?"

      "So far as I can remember, it is." He spoke in a slightly hesitating way, and Duvall at once noticed it. "You are, then, not absolutely sure?" he asked.

      "I feel confident that Noël did not leave me, nor enter the bedroom. If I hesitated for a moment, it arose from the fact that on one or two occasions I have fallen asleep while being shaved, but this morning I am quite sure that I did not do so."

      "Yet you were up late last night, and awoke feeling sleepy and tired."

      "Yes." The Ambassador nodded. "That is true."

      "Is there any other door to the bedroom?"

      "None, except that which opens into my bath. The bathroom has no windows. It is an inside room."

      "And the bedroom?"

      "It has two windows, facing upon the adjoining property. There is quite thirty feet of space between the two buildings and the windows are at least twenty-five feet from the ground."

      "What room is above?"

      "A guest's chamber, unused and locked."

      Duvall rose and began to stride up and down the room, chewing viciously upon his unlighted cigar. "After you finished questioning the man, what did you do then?"

      "I searched his room thoroughly, and made him turn out the contents of his pockets, his trunk and bureau drawers."

      "And you found – ?"

      "Nothing. That was before noon to-day. Since then, I have kept the man locked in his room, awaiting your coming. One of the other servants has remained on guard outside his door ever since."

      "You did not, then, notify the police?"

      "No. The matter is one that, for reasons of my own, I do not wish to become public."

      "Has anything been heard from your prisoner since this morning?"

      "Yes. He asked for pen and ink about one o'clock this afternoon. I went up to see him, to find out why he wanted them. He seemed deeply affected, was almost in tears, and apparently afraid to meet my gaze. He said he wished to write a note, breaking an engagement he had had for this afternoon. He usually had Wednesday afternoons off. I permitted him to write the letter."

      Duvall began to show signs of deep interest on hearing this. "Where is it?" he exclaimed.

      "What, monsieur?" The Ambassador evidently did not follow him.

      "The letter."

      "I sent it, of course."

      "But you read it first?"

      "Yes. It was addressed to a man named Seltz, Oscar Seltz, if I recollect correctly, at a barber shop in Piccadilly Circus, which, as you know, is close by. This fellow Seltz was a friend of Noël's. I have several times heard him speak of him. They were accustomed to spend their afternoons off together, I understand."

      "And the note?" asked Duvall, impatiently. "What did it say?"

      "Merely that Noël was unable to keep his appointment for that afternoon, and did not expect to see his friend again before his departure. Seltz must have been planning some trip. The letter, as I remember, was quite cool, almost unfriendly in its tone."

      Duvall glanced at his watch. "This was about one o'clock you say?"

      "Yes. The matter has no significance. We are wasting our time discussing it."

      "On the contrary, monsieur, I fear it may have had the greatest significance. That letter should never have been delivered. Even now, it may be too late to prevent the consequences. Be so good, monsieur, as to conduct me to this man Noël's room at once." He turned to Dufrenne. "You will accompany us, of course, Monsieur Dufrenne," he said, then followed the Ambassador toward the hall.

      In a few moments they reached the third floor of the house, and passed along a short hall which gave entrance to a rear extension of the building, in which the servants' quarters were located. At the entrance of the hall, a maid was seated upon a stool, reading a book. She rose as the others approached, and stood respectfully aside.

      "Has anything been heard from Noël?" the Ambassador asked. "Has he asked for anything?"

      "Nothing, monsieur. He has been quiet ever since six o'clock, when I took him his supper."

      "What was he doing when you entered?"

      "Writing, monsieur. He was sitting at the table, with a pen in his hand, and he looked up and told me to put the tray on the trunk. 'I shall ask you to take this letter to Monsieur de Grissac as soon as I have finished it,' he said. Since then I have heard nothing from him."

      Duvall had preceded the Ambassador and Dufrenne to the door at the end of the short hall, and stood listening intently. In a moment, De Grissac came up, and, unlocking the door, threw it open. The room was dimly illuminated by a single candle, which smoked and guttered in its socket, apparently nearly burned out. Nothing was at first to be seen of the valet. Duvall stepped forward, then turned quickly and spoke. "Shut the door, please," he said in a tense voice.

      Dufrenne did so, while the Ambassador strode forward and followed Duvall's gaze with a look of horror. On the floor beside the bed, and to the far side of the room from the door, lay the body of the unfortunate valet, his face, ghastly pale, turned toward the ceiling. But it was neither the sight of the man lying there, apparently dead, nor the agonized expression of his face, which caused both the Ambassador and Duvall to start back with exclamations of surprise. Across the man's lips was a great, dull-red blotch, which at first appeared to be a clot of blood, but which seemed, from its circular form and regular contour, more like a huge seal. And seal it was. Duvall, dropping on one knee beside the body, felt for the man's heart, at the same time looking closely at the mark upon his lips. He was quite dead, and had apparently been so for an hour or two. The blot upon his face was a great lump of red sealing wax, tightly binding together his lips, and upon it was the coarse imprint of a man's forefingers.

      The Ambassador shrank back with a cry, as his eyes fell upon the ghastly sight. Dufrenne gazed at the dead man impassively. Duvall, springing to his feet, went at once to the window at the rear of the room, which stood partly open, and raising it to its full extent, looked out. The others heard him give utterance to a low whistle, as he drew back into the room.

      "No one could have entered the room," cried the Ambassador, in a frightened voice. "It is thirty-five feet or more to the ground."

      Duvall СКАЧАТЬ