IV
A MYSTERY FOR THE POLICE
When at sixty it had occurred to Max Schimmel that, in spite of an excellent constitution, unimpaired even in eyesight, he was not likely to live more than sixty years longer, and consequently he ought to leave the wilderness and see something of people, he had brought with him many of his former companions.
Complaint now had been lodged against him so many times that, his persuasiveness with the police having lost its efficacy, his household had been greatly reduced. Still, an ocelot, a couple of muskrats, an ibis and a heron—not to mention the other lizards in the glass case with the Gila specimen—the least vociferous members of Max' household, remained to occupy his morning attention; and it was seldom, as Max became better known, that there was not also some ailing dog or cat, or a parrot under the weather, confided to his temporary care by its owner.
A Chinese boy picked up at Canton, and therefore illegally smuggled into Chicago, served him as animal-keeper as well as cook and houseboy. Even with this aid Max, who in the jungle had been accustomed to breakfast at four o'clock, in the city often did not breakfast until ten. Gradually, with only occasional lapses, he had taught himself to read the newspapers each morning instead of saving them up for weeks and getting all the news at once, as it always had come to him before; and he had even attained such commonplaceness of civilization as to read at breakfast.
Slowly and dispassionately, yet with interest and absorption increasing with every line, he read the leading columns on the morning after Hereford had consulted him about the emerald:
"Robbery under the most inexplicable circumstances; romance of a most extraordinary sort; these—and possible international complications—combined yesterday in the most dramatic mystery that has puzzled the Chicago police for years. The great emerald known as the Surakarta—a historic stone supposed by jewel experts to be safe in the castle of the Soesoehoenan of Surakarta, Java, where it had been kept for six hundred years—was abstracted from a locked steel box at the Hotel Tonty in a manner so bewilderingly inexplicable that the police, until convinced to the contrary, maintained that the robbery could not have taken place.
"Linked with the robbery is a remarkable romance involving the eccentric daughter of a formerly prominent Chicago family. A young Chicago lawyer of national reputation also appears to be implicated.
"From an extraordinary confusion of reports, charges, counter-charges and denials, asseverations, rumors and explanations, these facts stand out:
"The affair certainly started with a visit of Miss Lorine Regan to the Soesoehoenan—one of the two undeposed native sultans of Java—some six or eight months ago.
"Those who have been following the foreign cables, especially during the last two years since Miss Regan came into possession of her father's—the packer's—estate, do not find it hard to believe that, as is stated, she made a bargain with the Soesoehoenan to marry him if he would give her the great state emerald of Java, the Surakarta—the priceless possession of the island and the greatest emerald in the world.
"Whatever the facts may be, it is certain that a party of Javanese gentlemen attached to the Soesoehoenan's court arrived in Chicago yesterday to meet Miss Regan here, bearing with them a famous steel antique combination box—said to be the oldest steel combination fastening in the world—containing the great emerald. The fact that the stone was actually here and safe in its box last night is vouched for not only by the Javanese envoy, in whose charge it was, but also by customs officials at San Francisco and Chicago and agents of the government secret service. The emerald while in this country has been watched with great interest by the United States government because of its political importance.
"The greatest secrecy was, however, maintained, not only on account of the nature of the errand, but because of the increased risk if the presence of the great emerald were generally known.
"However, it appears that Mr. Wade Hereford—the trustee of the Regan estate—was yesterday informed of its presence; and, after a call upon Miss Regan in which he did everything in his power to prevent or delay her acceptance of the stone, he called upon the Javanese envoys upon the same errand. That was in the afternoon.
"Later in the evening, returning, he demanded, as trustee of the Regan estate and therefore practically Miss Regan's guardian, to be shown the great emerald, to be sure of the reality of it before the form of its reception by his ward should be gone through with the next day.
"The stone was then, as usual, in the box; but the envoy, who alone was intrusted with the combination, which is operated by a series of buttons and levers that must be manipulated in a certain complicated order, opened the box and satisfied Mr. Hereford of the reality of the emerald.
"The box was then closed and secured as usual, and the envoy, in whose room it was, went to bed. The door of the room was locked and also bolted on the inside. Both windows were securely fastened. There are no other openings into the room.
"The box stood in the middle of the room, near the foot of the bed of the Javanese envoy. It has been the custom of the envoy ever since leaving Java to sleep in the same room with the emerald. The steel box was wrapped in heavy paper as, according to the Javanese, it had been since leaving San Francisco, where the Javanese had been embarrassed by crowds which followed them upon the streets, attracted by the strange design of the box.
"This was the situation at eleven o'clock.
"About twelve the envoy was awakened by sounds of tearing paper and realized that some one was tearing the paper from the box. The noise was so loud and the tearing went on so heedlessly of the fact that he had moved that—in the darkness—he assumed that more than one man, enough to power him if he attacked, must be at the box.
"He is certain that at that time—and subsequently—neither of the doors was open and that both windows were still closed as he had left them.
"The Javanese fired two quick shots from the revolver he had under his pillow. He did this as an alarm, but he was also confident that in the rather small room he could not fail to hit one or another of the thieves. He crouched upon the bed, expecting a return fire; but to his surprise no attention whatever was paid; the tearing of the paper continued without the least apparent interruption.
"The envoy then fired three times. His attendants had been roused and were attempting to force the door, and this reassured him that the door was still locked. He heard no longer the sound of tearing paper, but it had been succeeded by the rapid clicking of the buttons and levers of the box. He recognized from the sound that they were being rapidly manipulated in the order which was correct for opening the box. The room was pitch-dark and now choked with powder smoke.
"Having now only one shot left in his revolver, the envoy fired for the last time with greater care. He was confident that this shot took effect, but at the same instant he discharged it he heard the sound of the opening of the box. Doubtful in the darkness of being able to find the electric light, he dashed forward with open arms to seize the thief. His outstretched arms, however, encountered no one; he stumbled over the box and fell full length upon the floor. He got up and ran here and there in the dark, finding no one, but coming suddenly in contact with the electric light, he switched it on.
"To his unspeakable astonishment he found himself alone in the room. Except for the confusion he himself had caused, there was not the least sign of any other presence—except about the box. The paper wrappings of the box had been torn and stripped away, however; the box itself stood open and the great emerald was gone! Both doors were still locked and bolted from the inside; the windows were still closed and fastened down. Moreover, below the windows was a straight drop of ten floors.
"At this instant the envoy's attendants succeeded in forcing the door. Two of them remained to guard the opening, while the others entered the room. Their examination developed the most surprising feature of this whole remarkable case. The last shot of the envoy had indeed taken effect, as was witnessed by a spot, incontestably of blood, upon the floor in front of the open, empty box. From this larger spot drops of blood led in the direction the thief had gone; but he had not gone toward either of the doors—he had not gone toward the windows. He had gone toward the third side of the room, which offers only a blank solid wall. At the foot of this wall the drops of blood stopped. There were no others to be found anywhere in the room!"
When the account in the newspaper reached this point Max stopped and struck his hands together as a summons. It was answered by the Chinese boy.
"Chang!"
"Yles."
"Go out and burchase gopies for me of all this morning's bapers," said Max.
He then finished the few succeeding words of the surprising account:
"Here, therefore, is the apparently insoluble problem which confronts the police: What became of the man who took the emerald? He did not go out through the wall, for a man cannot step through a wall of solid brick; but, aside from the testimony furnished by the drops of blood, there is complete evidence that he did not go out anywhere else. The attendants of the Javanese envoy had arrived in a body outside the only exit door while the robbery was still in progress; and they found this door not only locked but bolted inside, so that they were forced to break it down in order to effect an entrance into the room.
"The other door leads only into the bathroom, from which escape is impossible; and this door was locked and the keys of both doors were under the pillow of the envoy. Aviation has not reached such development that burglars enter and leave through tenth-story windows; and also both windows were securely locked upon the inside, and were found still so fastened after the robbery.
"The very pretty serving maid who answered the door at Miss Regan's hotel apartments declares that her mistress has nothing to say. Mr. Wade Hereford's valet made the same statement for his master. Telephone calls for these two were unanswered. The Javanese envoy, whose American dress and English speech fail to hide his frantic terror and anxiety, has plainly told all that he knows; and his account, which tallies in every particular with the narratives of the members of his suite, has put the police completely at a loss. No member of the Javanese party shows any wound which could account in a manner different from that described by the envoy for the presence of the drops of blood."
Max, when he compared this account with those of the other morning papers which the boy had brought, found that it differed from them in no essential particular, though he re-read them all slowly, with interest increasing at every line.
Finally he put the papers thoughtfully away and went out into his garden to meditate.
His pigeons, from their cote upon the roof, fluttered and strutted about him. It was past the time to feed them, but Max had forgot. They fell into great disturbance at sight of him; one lighted on his shoulder and he remembered. He brought some shelled corn and began to scatter it upon the ground.
"He wass there, but he wass not there; he tore the baper off," said Max to himself or to the pigeons. "He woke the Javanese tearing the baper to strips. The box—it wass covered with baper, which wass not usual. He tore it off loudly and he opened the box. So he wass there—because he tore off the baper and opened the box. But he wass not there, because nobody wass there. He could not go out through doors or windows that were locked, and to walk out through the wall—that is imbossible!"
He began to drop the corn in little piles, a handful at a time, not noticing what he was doing.
"He wass there, because he tore the baper off loudly. Berhaps he did not exbect the box to be covered with baper; and therefore he tore it off so loudly that it wass heard. It follows, therefore, that he wass there. To say he wass not there, that also is imbossible!"
He dumped the remaining corn in a heap and stood still.
"To be there wass not enough," he said gravely. "Also he must know—and in the dark—that the box wass beneath the baper. I would like to know—yes, I would wonder if that box hass a smell!"
Suddenly he threw away the measure that had held the corn.
"Chang!"
"Yles."
"If that box hass a smell"
"Yles."
"If that box hass a smell, Chang, then I would say: Here is a jewel stolen in a way that iss not usual. Gif me my hat."
"Yles."
"I am going out. I do not know when I will be back. See to all things. I have chust fed the bigeons."
He took his hat and went out quickly into the street.