RIDDLES
I returned to the library and heaped the fireplace with coal. For an
hour after Genevieve's departure I was utterly unable to concentrate my
mind upon any congeries of fact that might be of the least possible use
in unravelling the badly tangled skein presented by Felix Page's death;
I could see nothing but the fine blue eyes clouded with trouble, and
the sweet face under the shadow of her gnawing anxiety.
I fished up the cipher, flattened it upon the library table, and strove
manfully to hold my vagrant attention to the task of interpreting its
secret message. My thoughts straightway wandered back to Genevieve
again.
Now that I was alone, it was inevitable that I should sum up the
results of our conference. I did not blink the truth; the facts were
plain, not susceptible of argument.
No matter what the future might have in store for Genevieve and me,
whether it was replete with delicious promise, or whether the useless
iron gate marked the parting of our ways, her intrusion must ever
remain a cherished memory. But it would have been better for her peace
of mind not to have sought me out. If she had not, she would have
remained ignorant of the circumstance that she possessed any knowledge
hurtful to her uncle; if she had remained away, the accusation that he
had come to harm through her could never reproach her in after years.
Her errand had been impelled by a conviction that I would appreciate
her more intimate knowledge of her cousin's lover. She knew that she
could lay before me no tangible testimony in his behalf, but hoped that
I could be made to sympathize with her estimate of his character.
During her first visit to the house, with Belle, she had clearly
recognized the seriousness of the young man's predicament, and that I
would be governed only by the facts as I read them. Notwithstanding he
was somewhat fiery and headstrong, if she could influence me to see
that he was honest, sincere and straightforward, she felt hopeful that
I would continue my investigation with a strong leaning in his favor.
_Was ever a cipher so empty of all meaning!_
_What addle-pate had conceived it? Why should_
_he want to perpetrate anything so idiotic?_
By her simplicity and singleness of purpose, however, she had
innocently drawn my attention to her uncle; then, in a measure, she had
verified my awakened suspicions. While Maillot and Felix Page were in
the library, engrossed in their own affairs, could Alfred Fluette have
been in the house?
Highly improbable as such a contingency might appear, still it was by
no means impossible. "Suppose," Genevieve had asked me, "that it was
Uncle Alfred?" Never, unless she herself had some reason to doubt and
mistrust, would she have propounded that question. Had he been absent
from home until an unwontedly late hour last night? Was his manner in
the morning of a nature to draw attention to himself, so that, in the
light of later developments, it had provoked her suspicions? I had
purposely refrained from asking her any questions touching upon this
possibility.
In a flash the image of Genevieve Cooper swam out of my thoughts. My
whole attention became glued to the cipher. At each end of the two
rows of numerals and arrows was a peculiar crenellated design; it had
struck me with a sudden sense of familiarity. Where had I ever seen
anything similar or identical, that this odd symbol should penetrate
into the midst of my absorption and force me unwittingly to try to
recall the circumstance? Quite recently, I was sure--to-day--in this
very house. My glance skirted the spacious library, darting from one
object to another, but encountered nothing at all that in any way
resembled it. Here was a subliminal reminder which my perception was
dull to read.
[Illustration: Cipher]
Filled with the idea, I thrust the strip of parchment like paper back
into my pocketbook, and started eagerly upon another tour of the entire
establishment. I paused in one room after another, examined each
article in turn, but ended not a whit wiser than when I began.
Yet my belief in the correctness of the veiled mental impulse remained
unshaken. The design was a facsimile of some object in this house;
something my eyes had rested upon, albeit without the existence at the
time of any occasion to fix it upon my mind; but conjure my brain as I
would, I could not recall where or when.
When Stodger returned, I determined at last, I would set him at work
searching for the odd symbol, or whatever it might be. When I made
this resolve I was standing beside the old walnut table at the head of
Mr. Page's bed; with a forefinger I idly traced the design in the dust
on the artificial leather cover, beside the impress made by the
jewel-box.
My preoccupation was broken in upon by the arrival of the undertaker's
men. It would not do--if the ruby was really beneath this roof--to
grant any strangers unrestricted privileges of the house; at least not
without keeping a heedful eye upon their movements. Alexander Burke, I
shrewdly suspected, was equal to any subterfuge or ruse to obtain the
jewel, and I did not mean to be caught napping.
No small responsibility is involved in safeguarding $500,000--the
amount Maillot declared his uncle had paid for the ruby--particularly
when the guardian himself does not know precisely where the treasure
lies. It would not do to take any chances. Otherwise, if the amount
had been materially less, or had been in a form not so easily disposed
of about the person or by thrusting it into a convenient cranny, or,
perhaps, even tossing it unseen through a window to a waiting
confederate on the outside, my wisest course might have been to permit
Burke, or whoever knew where the jewel was, to lead me to its
hiding-place. But I must be vigilant, always alert; there would be
little sleep for me until I had this extraordinary gem safe in my hands.
So I remained with the undertaker's men until they departed with the
body.
As I turned to reënter the house Stodger's portly form hove into view.
He dropped into one of the library's big easy-chairs.
"Whew!" he gasped. "I'm a peach of a shadow, ain't I? Nice work for
one of my build. Say! That fellow Burke--Alexander Stilwell--he 's
the--you know--most restless party I ever saw. If Fanshawe had n't
relieved me when he did I 'd be worked down to about middle-weight by
this time."
"Anything particular?" I inquired.
"Er--no. You know he came back here. Rest o' the time he spent
dodging in and out of old Page's offices at the Drovers' National.
Walk like a house afire for--m'm-m--maybe a block; next time maybe six
blocks."
"Well?"
"Then he 'd--ah--he 'd turn round and walk back again."
"Not very interesting for you. But we know one thing for certain: he
's uneasy. I have a far lighter task for you, though, than following
the erratic movements of Mr. Alexander Burke."
And then I recounted for his benefit all that I knew respecting the
ruby, declared my belief that it lay somewhere in the house, and,
finally, outlined my plans for the immediate future.
"We 'll divide the vigil between us, Stodger; you and I shall camp
right here until that costly bauble comes to light. We 'll have to
keep our eyes open and our wits about us, too; I wouldn't be surprised
at some tricky attempt to recover it at any time--especially during
darkness."
After showing him the cipher and requesting that he be observant to
find the counterpart of the two peculiar designs, I left him in charge
of the house. Next I arranged that our meals be brought to us, after
which I returned to town and held a long conference with my chief.
This proved to be eminently satisfactory, inasmuch as he left the Page
affair entirely in my hands.
Although I hoped that some new development would require another
interview with Miss Cooper, absolutely nothing transpired until the
next morning. During the rest of Wednesday afternoon--perhaps I forgot
to mention that the murder was committed at about midnight Tuesday--and
until late Wednesday night, Stodger and I prosecuted a diligent and
systematic search for the ruby, the original of the design on the
cipher, and for anything else that might bear upon the crime, but found
nothing to reward our efforts. At a late hour we knocked off and
sought the library's easy-chairs. After a while Stodger asked me for
the cipher. When I dropped off to sleep he was industriously digging
away at it, with many gasps and inarticulate exclamations.
Concerning the cipher, it is perhaps well to mention that I applied it
to the door of the hidden safe on the chance that the opposed arrows
indicated the different movements of the dial; but I discovered the
combination to be much simpler. In fact, there were not sufficient
tumblers in the dial to allow for so complicated a combination at all.
There remained the possibility that the numerals belonged to some other
safe, though I did not think so: those two odd crenellated figures
could have nothing in common with any permutation-lock. I had seen
them; they were tantalizingly familiar; but where? And what meaning
did those two figure "10's" bear? Here was a riddle for Oedipus.
The next morning--Thursday--Dr. De Breen conducted the inquest in the
library. I mention this hearing solely because of a number of
circumstances which occurred during the proceedings--although unrelated
to them--and which have a bearing upon the story. As for the testimony
itself, it was about as satisfactory as in most instances where little
respecting the crime is definitely known.
Stodger and I had the burden of additional watchfulness imposed upon
us; a number of people would be brought upon the scene, and each of us
had to be present at some time during the hearing without leaving the
house unguarded for a second.
"Looky here, Swift," Dr. De Breen buttonholed me, grabbing at his
glasses, "what's in this case, anyhow? Have you got the man? 'T isn't
a woman, is it?" He cocked his head on one side, and favored me with a
squinting regard.
"No, I have n't," I emphatically returned. "And what's more, I don't
think you 're going to hit upon him to-day. It is n't a woman, either."
"Don't say! But what have you?"
I displayed the cipher, at which he scowled ferociously for a second.
"It's a combination," he announced decisively; "bet the cigars it's a
combination--or direction of some sort."
"Sure thing. Perhaps, too, you 'll tell me where I can try it out."
Holding his glasses with one hand, he stared through them at the bit of
paper.
"What are those fluted affairs at each end with figure '10's' in 'em?"
I shook my head. "You can search me. I thought you might tell me
something; I can ask more questions about it myself right now than I
can answer."
But I added my conviction that they were facsimiles of some detail of
ornamentation I had seen in the house. I also told him where the
cipher had been discovered--but not who had discovered it--and, in
short, gave him a summary of the entire case. Before I was through he
was grinning at me in a very superior and knowing way.
"Nice, bright sleuth, you," commented he, mockingly; "can't you see
through a grindstone when there's a hole in it? Now looky here, Swift:
old Page kept the replica in the box as a blind; this cryptogram tells
where the real ruby is."
I shrugged my shoulders; the idea was by no means novel. But it did
not make matters any clearer.
"It must have been the ruby which he showed Maillot," I insisted.
"That young man may not be much of a gem expert, but I don't think any
mere paste imitation of a ruby would have inspired him to such a flight
of vivid description as he indulged in when he talked with me yesterday
morning. Guess again."
He jammed his glasses down combatively astride his hawk-like nose, and
squared his shoulders.
"I won't guess at all. Looky here: old Page switched 'em. That's what
he did--switched 'em to show Maillot the real thing. Every time I
converse with you, Swift, my theory about the equality of mind and
matter receives a jolt: you have more brawn than brain, old sport."
Squinting at each newcomer, he bustled away before I had time to get
back at him. I was rather touchy about my size; I could n't help being
a giant, and the little ferret of a sawbones knew it. I had only one
means of revenge. He was a great stickler for maintaining the dignity
of his profession, and I always called him "Doc."
While De Breen was getting his jurors in line, I disposed the two
patrolmen who had accompanied him--one in the hall, to direct those who
had business here this morning straight to the library, and to allow
nobody, under whatever pretext, to wander to any other part of the
house; the second was stationed just inside the library door. Stodger
was to remain up-stairs until called for, when I would relieve him
during the brief period required for his testimony.
Burke and Maillot arrived while I was thus engaged, and before I had
time to enter the library the front door opened to admit a party of
three--Miss Cooper and Miss Fluette, who were accompanied by a
handsome, dignified man with white hair and a closely trimmed beard
which he wore parted in the middle and brushed straight back.
Instinctively I knew this man to be Alfred Fluette. And as soon would
I have expected the attendance of the Caliph of Bagdad. I fell to
watching him narrowly.
His features were not familiar to me, but certain details of his
appearance were so striking that I could scarcely do otherwise than
conclude that his bearing and countenance had quite recently undergone
a marked change. He was a man, I imagined, who could hide his feelings
with eminent success; yet, his upstanding figure, without being
precisely bent, expressed an idea of drooping. The lines of his face
gave it a haggard expression, while his eyes wore a furtive, hunted
look at certain periods when he forgot to keep himself in hand. All
these details taken together gave me food for sober reflection.
With the wax impression on the iron candlestick in mind, I bent my
glance to his hands--to the right hand--but he wore gloves, and
moreover, the long sleeves of his heavy overcoat came well down over
his knuckles. A stirring of the library fire might persuade him to
remove his wraps later on.
But something happened that banished everything else temporarily from
my mind. The instant he stepped across the front door-sill his eyes
sought the upper regions of the house--the balcony or the second story
hall. The glance was feverishly eager. He looked away again quickly;
but I could not help associating this brief episode with Burke's
wistful look in the same direction the afternoon before.