I PART WITH THE BOULE CABINET
The coroner's inquest was held next day, and my surmise proved to be
correct. The police had discovered practically no new evidence; none,
certainly, which shed any light on the way in which Drouet and Philip
Vantine had met death. Each of the witnesses told his story much as I
have told it here, and it was evident that the jury was bewildered by
the seemingly inextricable tangle of circumstances.
To my relief, Drouet's identity was established without any help from
me. The bag which he had left on the pier had been opened at the
request of the police and a card-case found with his address on it.
Why he had sent in to Vantine a card not his own, and what his
business with Vantine had been, were details concerning which the
police could offer no theory, and which I did not feel called upon to
explain, since neither in any way made clearer the mystery of his
death.
An amusing incident of the inquest was the attempt made by
Goldberger to heckle Godfrey, evidently at Grady's suggestion.
"On the morning after the tragedy," Goldberger began sweetly, "you
printed in the _Record_ a photograph which you claimed to be that of
the woman who had called upon Mr. Vantine the night before, and who
was, presumably, the last person to see him alive. Where did you get
that photograph?"
"It was a copy of one which Drouet carried in his watch-case,"
answered Godfrey.
"Since then," pursued Goldberger, "you have made no further reference
to that feature of the case. I presume you found out that you were
mistaken?"
"On the contrary, I proved that I was correct."
Goldberger's face reddened, and his look was not pleasant.
"'Prove' is rather a strong word, isn't it?" he asked.
"It is the right word."
"What was the woman's connection with the man Drouet?"
"She had been his mistress."
"You say that very confidently," said Goldberger, his lips curling.
"After all, it is merely a guess, isn't it?"
"I have reason to say it confidently," retorted Godfrey quietly,
"since the woman confessed as much in my presence."
Again Goldberger reddened.
"I suppose she also confessed that it was really she who called upon
Mr. Vantine?" he sneered.
"She not only confessed that," said Godfrey, still more quietly, "but
she told in detail what occurred during that visit."
"The confession was made to yourself alone, of course?" queried
Goldberger, in a tone deliberately insulting.
Godfrey flushed a little at the words, but managed to retain his
self-control.
"Not at all," he said. "It was made in the presence of Mr. Lester and
of another distinguished lawyer whose name I am not at liberty to
reveal."
Goldberger swallowed hard, as though he had received a slap in the
face. I dare say, he felt as though he had!
"This woman is in New York?" he asked.
"I believe so."
"What is her name and address?"
"I am not at liberty to answer."
Goldberger glared at him.
"You _will_ answer," he thundered, "or I'll commit you for contempt!"
Godfrey was quite himself again.
"Very well," he said, smiling. "I have not the slightest objection.
But I would think it over, if I were you. Mr. Lester will assure you
that the woman was in no way connected with the death either of
Drouet or of Mr. Vantine."
Goldberger did think it over; he realised the danger of trying to
punish a paper so powerful as the _Record_, and he finally decided to
accept Godfrey's statement as a mitigation of his refusal to answer.
"That is only one of the details which Commissioner Grady has
missed," Godfrey added, pleasantly.
"That will do," Goldberger broke in, and Godfrey left the stand.
I was recalled to confirm his story. I, also, of course, refused to
give the woman's name, explaining to Goldberger that I had learned it
professionally, that I was certain she had been guilty of no crime,
and that to reveal it would seriously embarrass an entirely innocent
woman. With that statement, the coroner was compelled to appear
satisfied.
Grady did not go on the stand; he was not even at the inquest. In
fact, since the first day, he had not appeared publicly in connection
with the case at all; and I had surmised that he did not care to be
identified with a mystery which there seemed to be no prospect of
solving, and from which no glory was to be won. The case had been
placed in Simmonds's hands, and it was he who testified on behalf of
the police, admitting candidly that they were all at sea. He had made
a careful examination of the Vantine house, he said, particularly of
the room in which the bodies had been found, and had discovered
absolutely nothing in the shape of a clue to the solution of the
mystery. There was something diabolical about it; something almost
supernatural. He had not abandoned hope, and was still working on the
case; but he was inclined to think that, if the mystery was ever
solved, it would be only by some lucky accident or through the
confession of the guilty man.
Goldberger was annoyed; that was evident enough from the nervous way
in which he gnawed his moustache; but he had no theory any more than
the police; there was not a scintilla of evidence to fasten the crime
upon any one; and the end of the hearing was that the jury brought in
a verdict that Philip Vantine and Georges Drouet had died from the
effects of a poison administered by a person or persons unknown.
Godfrey joined me at the door as I was leaving, and we went down the
steps together.
"I was glad to hear Simmonds confess that the police are up a tree,"
he said. "Of course, Grady is trying to sneak out of it, and blame
some one else for the failure--but I'll see that he doesn't succeed.
I'll see, anyway, that Simmonds gets a square deal--he's an old
friend of mine, you know."
"Yes," I said, "I know; but we're all up a tree, aren't we?"
"For the present," laughed Godfrey, "we do occupy that undignified
position. But you don't expect to stay there forever, do you,
Lester?"
"Since my theory about the Boule cabinet exploded," I said, "I have
given up hope. By the way, I'm going to turn the cabinet over to its
owner to-morrow."
"To its owner?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Yes, I thought
he'd be around for it, though I hardly thought he'd come so soon. Who
does it happen to be, Lester?"
"Why," I said, a little impatiently, "you know as well as I do that
it belongs to Armand & Son."
"You've seen their representative, then?" he queried, a little flush
of excitement which I could not understand spreading over his face.
"He came to see me yesterday. I'd like you to meet him, Godfrey. He
is Félix Armand, the 'son' of the firm, and one of the most finished
gentlemen I ever met."
"I'd like to meet him," said Godfrey, smiling queerly. "Perhaps I
shall, some day; I hope so, anyway. But how did he explain the
blunder, Lester?"
"In some way, they shipped the wrong cabinet to Vantine. The right
one will get here on _La Provence_ to-morrow," and I told him in
detail the story which Felix Armand had told me. "He was quite upset
over it," I added, "His apologies were almost abject."
Godfrey listened intently to all this, and he nodded with
satisfaction when I had finished.
"It is all most interesting," he commented.
"Did M. Armand happen to mention where he is staying?"
"No, but he won't be hard to find, if you want to see him. He's at
one of the big hotels, of course--probably the Plaza or the St.
Regis. He's too great a swell for any minor hostelry."
"What time do you expect him to-morrow?"
"Sometime in the afternoon. He's to call for me as soon as he gets
Vantine's cabinet off the boat. Godfrey," I added, "I felt yesterday
when I was talking with him that perhaps he knew more about this
affair than he would admit. I could see that he guessed in an instant
who the owner of the letters was, and what they contained. Do you
think I ought to hold on to the cabinet a while longer? I could
invent some pretext for delay, easily enough."
"Why, no; let him have his cabinet," said Godfrey, with an alacrity
that surprised me. "If your theory about it has been exploded, what's
the use of hanging on to it?"
"I don't see any use in doing so," I admitted, "but I thought perhaps
you might want more time to examine it."
"I've examined it all I'm going to," Godfrey answered, and I told
myself that this was the first time I had ever known him to admit
himself defeated.
"I have a sort of feeling," I explained, "that when we let go of the
cabinet, we give up the only clue we have to this whole affair. It is
like a confession of defeat."
"Oh, no, it isn't," Godfrey objected. "If there is nothing more to be
learned from the cabinet, there is no reason to retain it. I should
certainly let M. Armand have it. Perhaps I'll see you to-morrow," he
added, and we parted at the corner.
But I did not see him on the morrow. I was rather expecting a call
from him during the morning, and when none came, I was certain I
should find him awaiting me when I arrived at the Vantine house, in
company with M. Armand. But he was not there, and when I asked for
him, Parks told me that he had not seen him since the day before.
I confess that Godfrey's indifference to the fate of the cabinet
surprised me greatly; besides, I was hoping that he would wish to
meet the fascinating Frenchman. More fascinating, if possible, than
he had been on Monday, and I soon found myself completely under his
spell. There had been less delay than he had anticipated in getting
the cabinet off the boat and through the customs, and it was not yet
three o'clock when we reached the Vantine house.
"I haven't seen Mr. Godfrey," Parks repeated, "but there's others
here as it fair breaks my heart to see."
He motioned toward the door of the music-room, and, stepping to it, I
saw that the inventory was already in progress. The man in charge of
it nodded to me, but I did not go in, for the sight was anything but
a pleasant one.
"The cabinet is in the room across the hall," I said to M. Armand,
and led the way through the ante-room into the room beyond.
Parks switched on the lights for us, and my companion glanced with
surprise at the heavy shutters covering the windows.
"We put those up for a protection," I explained. "We had an idea that
some one would try to enter. In fact, one evening we _did_ find a
wire connecting with the burglar-alarm cut, and, later on, saw some
one peering in through the hole in that shutter yonder."
"You did?" M. Armand queried quickly.
"Would you recognise the man, if you were to meet him again?"
"Oh, no; you see the hole is quite small. There was nothing visible
except a pair of eyes. Yet I might know them again, for I never
before saw such eyes--so bright, so burning. It was the night that
Godfrey and I were trying to find the secret drawer, and those eyes
gleamed like fire as they watched us."
M. Armand was gazing at the cabinet, apparently only half listening.
"Ah, yes, the secret drawer," he said. "Will you show me how it is
operated, Mr. Lester? I am most curious about it."
I placed my hand upon the table and pressed the three points which
the veiled lady had shown us. The first time, I got the order wrong,
but at the second trial, the little handle fell forward with a click,
and I pulled the drawer open.
"There it is," I said. "You see how cleverly it is constructed. And
how well it is concealed. No one would suspect its existence."
He examined it with much interest; pushed it back into place, and
then opened it himself.
"Very clever indeed," he agreed. "I have never seen another so well
concealed. And the idea of opening it only by a certain combination
is most happy and original. Most secret drawers are secret only in
name; a slight search reveals them; but this one...."
He pushed it shut again, and examined the inlay around it.
"My friend and I went over the cabinet very carefully and could not
find it," I said.
"Your friend--I think you mentioned his name?"
"Yes--his name is Godfrey."
"A man of the law, like yourself?"
"Oh, no, a newspaper man. But he had been a member of the detective
force before that. He is extraordinarily keen, and if anybody could
have found that drawer, he could. But that combination was too much
for him."
M. Armand snapped the drawer back into place with a little crash.
"I am glad, at any rate, that it _was_ discovered," he said. "I will
not conceal from you, Mr. Lester, that it adds not a little to the
value of the cabinet."
"What is its value?" I asked. "Mr. Vantine wanted me to buy it for
him, and named a most extravagant figure as the limit he was willing
to pay."
"Really," M. Armand answered, after an instant's hesitation, "I would
not care to name a figure, Mr. Lester, without further consultation
with my father. The cabinet is quite unique--the most beautiful,
perhaps, that M. Boule ever produced. Did you discover Madame de
Montespan's monogram?"
"No. Mr. Vantine said he was sure it existed; but Godfrey and I did
not look for it."
M. Armand opened the doors which concealed the central drawers.
"_Voilà!_" he said, and traced with his finger the arabesque just
under the pediment. "See how cunningly it has been blended with the
other figures. And here is the emblem of the giver." He pointed to a
tiny golden sun with radiating rays on the base of the pediment, just
above the monogram. "_Le roi soleil!_"
"_ Le roi soleil!_" I repeated. "Of course. We were stupid not to
have discerned it. That tells the whole story, doesn't it? What is
it, Parks?" I added, as that worthy appeared at the door.
"There's a van outside, sir," he said, "and a couple of men are
unloading a piece of furniture. Is it all right, sir?"
"Yes," I answered. "Have them bring it in here. And ask the man in
charge of the inventory to step over here a minute. Mr. Vantine left
his collection of art objects to the Metropolitan Museum," I
explained to M. Armand, "and I should like the representative of the
museum to be present when the exchange is made."
"Certainly," he assented. "That is very just."
Parks was back in a moment, piloting two men who carried between them
an object swathed in burlap, and the Metropolitan man followed them
in.
"I am Mr. Lester," I said to him, "Mr. Vantine's executor; and this
is M. Félix Armand, of Armand & Son, of Paris. We are correcting an
error which was made just before Mr. Vantine died. That cabinet
yonder was shipped him by mistake in place of one which he had
bought. M. Armand has caused the right one to be sent over, and will
take away the one which belongs to him. I have already spoken to the
museum's attorney about the matter, but I wished you to be present
when the exchange was made."
"I have no doubt it is all right, sir," the museum man hastened to
assure me. "You, of course, have personal knowledge of all this?"
"Certainly. Mr. Vantine himself told me the story."
"Very well, sir," but his eyes dwelt lovingly upon the Boule cabinet.
"That is a very handsome piece," he added. "I am sorry the museum is
not to get it."
"Perhaps you can buy it from M. Armand," I suggested, but the curator
laughed and shook his head.
"No," he said, "we couldn't afford it. But Sir Caspar might persuade
Mr. Morgan to buy it for us--I'll mention it to him."
The two men, meanwhile, under M. Armand's direction, had been
stripping the wrappings from the other cabinet, and it finally stood
revealed. It, too, was a beautiful piece of furniture, but even my
untrained eye could see how greatly it fell below the other.
"We shall be very pleased to have Mr. Morgan see it," said M. Armand,
with a smile. "I will not conceal from you that we had already
thought of him--as what dealer does not when he acquires something
rare and beautiful? I shall endeavour to secure an appointment with
him. Meanwhile...."
"Meanwhile the cabinet is yours," I said.
He made a little deprecating gesture, and then proceeded to have the
cabinet very carefully wrapped in the burlap which had been around
the other one. I watched it disappear under the rough covering with
something like regret, for already my eyes were being opened to its
beauty. Besides, I told myself again, with it would disappear the
last hope of solving the mystery of Philip Vantine's death. However
my reason might protest, some instinct told me that, in some way, the
Boule cabinet was connected with that tragedy.
But at last the packing was done, and M. Armand turned to me and held
out his hand.
"I shall hope to see you again, Mr. Lester," he said, with a
cordiality which flattered me, "and to renew our very pleasant
acquaintance. Whenever you are in Paris, I trust you will not fail to
honour me by letting me know. I shall count it a very great privilege
to display for you some of the beauties of our city not known to
every one."
"Thank you," I said. "I shall certainly remember that invitation.
And meanwhile, since you are here in New York...."
"You are most kind," he broke in, "and I was myself hoping that we
might at least dine together. But I am compelled to proceed to Boston
this evening, and from there I shall go on to Quebec. Whether I shall
get back to New York I do not know--it will depend somewhat upon Mr.
Morgan's attitude; we would scarcely entrust a business so delicate
to our dealer. If I do get back, I shall let you know."
"Please do," I urged. "It will be a very great pleasure to me.
Besides, I am still hoping that some solution of this mystery may
occur to you."
He shook his head with a little smile.
"I fear it is too difficult for a novice like myself," he said. "It
is impenetrable to me. If a solution is discovered, I trust you will
inform me. It is certain to be most interesting."
"I will," I promised, and we shook hands again.
Then he signed to the two men to take up the cabinet, and himself
laid a protecting hand upon it as it was carried through the door and
down the steps to the van which was backed up to the curb. It was
lifted carefully inside, the two men clambered in beside it, the
driver spoke to the horses, and the van rolled slowly away up the
Avenue.
M. Armand watched it for a moment, then mounted into the cab which
was waiting, waved a last farewell to me, and followed after the van.
We watched it until it turned westward at the first cross-street.
"Mr. Godfrey's occupation will be gone," said Parks, with a little
laugh. "He has fairly lived with that cabinet for the past three or
four days. He was here last night for quite a while."
"Last night?" I echoed, surprised. "I was sure he would be here
to-day," I added, reflecting that Godfrey might have decided to have
a final look at the cabinet. "He half-promised to be here, but I
suppose something more important detained him."
The next instant, I was jumping down the steps two at a time, for a
cab in which two men were sitting came down the Avenue, and rolled
slowly around the corner in the direction taken by the van.
And just as it disappeared, one of its occupants turned toward me and
waved his hand--and I recognised Jim Godfrey.