"Well, what's your name, stupid?" snapped Holmes, as a
colorless-looking fellow with vacant eyes stood before us.
"Ivan Galetchkoff. I was born in Tikhorietzkaia, Northern Caucasia, I
work as second cook in the Earl's kitchen, and I can tell you just who
stole his cuff-buttons; so I can!"
"Well, this is interesting, if true," commented Holmes. "And whom do
you accuse as the guilty miscreant, Ivan?"
"I accuse that black scoundrel Vermicelli, the Earl's valet. Oh, how I
hate him, with his smooth and slippery ways, and his air of
superiority over me, because he helps the Earl on and off with his
silk shirts, and I mix the hash in the kitchen!" replied Ivan.
"Well, that's hardly valid ground for accusing him of the
robbery,--don't you think?" said Holmes, smiling.
"No; but I have other reasons, all right. Vermicelli is the guy who
attends to the Earl in his bedroom, and he was the last man to see the
diamond cuff-buttons as His Lordship retired Sunday night. Therefore,
he certainly stole them. I guess it doesn't take a London detective to
dope that out. Why didn't you search his room the very first thing?"
And Galetchkoff looked about him with an air of triumph.
"Evidently this subject of the Czar didn't observe his object of
suspicion going around with something shiny in his hand, as the others
did. Call in the next boob," said Holmes.
The Russian hash-mixer departed, and a very charming black-eyed
senorita from sunny Spain stood before us.
"What is your name, madam?" said Holmes, with some embarrassment,
since, as I have observed before in the course of our mutual
adventures, he was a confirmed bachelor, and didn't like women.
"Teresa Olivano, from Seville, sir. I am Her Ladyship the Countess's
maid, sir," she replied, with a bewitching smile at my misogynist
friend.
"Er, ah,--well, what do you know about the stolen cuff-buttons, if
anything? Of course, I don't mean to insinuate that you had a hand in
it."
She smiled again, and replied:
"I am quite sure that you will find the Earl's stolen jewelry upon the
person or concealed in the room of Adelaide Meerckenloo, the second
chambermaid. I happened to overhear her whispering to Natalie
Nishovich, the first chambermaid, last night, about some 'diamonds,'
and they abruptly stopped talking, and acted greatly embarrassed, when
I came into the room where they were."
"Is that all you know about it?" said Holmes.
"Well, I should think it was enough. That Adelaide is a regular old
cat, and I am positive she stole the diamond cuff-buttons. If you
don't want to take my word for it, then don't!" And the Spanish lady
walked out with a toss of her head.
"Everybody accuses everybody else. This is getting to be a joke," said
Holmes, with a scowl at me, which was quite undeserved, as I hadn't
been doing anything.
"Bring in the next victim, the first chambermaid," he snapped.
Eustace Thorneycroft, who had been acting as a sort of bailiff for
Holmes's court of inquisition, now brought in a girl with the same
sort of lack of intelligence on her face as had distinguished the
Russian Galetchkoff.
"What's your name, there?" said Holmes.
"Natalie Nishovich, and I used to work in King Alexander of Servia's
royal palace in Belgrade before his sudden death nine years ago."
"Well, Natalie, have you seen the diamond cuff-buttons lying around
loose anywhere?"
"No, sir; but I have an idea that that conceited Spanish girl that
just walked out of here stole them,--Teresa Olivano, I mean."
"Hum, have you overheard her talking about the diamonds, or is it just
on general principles?" asked Holmes, as Tooter frowned severely at
the chambermaid.
"Just on general principles. I don't like her at all."
"All right. Good-by. You've said enough. Call in the next one,"
ordered Holmes; adding: "They all seem to belong to the 'I-used-to-be'
club. You certainly have combed the world looking for variegated
characters, Earl. I suppose the next one will be a Chinaman or a
Patagonian."
But it wasn't; only a Belgian girl, with dark eyes that couldn't look
Holmes straight in the face as he questioned her.
"What's your name, previous place of employment, and opinion as to the
present location of the stolen cuff-buttons?"
"My name is Adelaide Meerckenloo, and I used to be maid to the late
Queen of Belgium. I think the man who stole the Earl's diamonds is
Peter Van Damm, Lord Launcelot's valet. He used to work for a diamond
firm in Amsterdam, Holland; so he would know best how to dispose of
them."
"Which is about as good a reason for your suspicions as the others
gave for theirs. You're excused, Addie. Next," said Holmes.
"Well, you don't need to bite my head off about it," grumbled Addie,
as she went out, and her place was taken by a cheerful and rubicund
coachman, the same one who had driven us up from the station the day
before.
"What's your name, antecedents, and knowledge as to the
diamond-theft?" Holmes demanded.
"Vell, Ay bane Olaf Yensen, from Aalesund, Norvay. Ay bane the Earl's
first coachman. Und Ay suspect strongly that my partner out at das
stables, Carol Linescu, sviped das Earl's cuff-buttons. Ay saw das
rascal hiding someding in das hay up in the loft last evening, und Ay
bet you, by Golly, that if you yump on him, you vill find that he is
das tief. So!"
And the fat little coachman looked around with a cherubic smile on his
face.
"All right, Yensie, maybe we will. You're excused. Next."
The man who had just been accused of the robbery was now presented by
the secretary. He formed a marked contrast to his partner,--being
tall, dark and slender, with a hangdog expression on his face.
"What's your name, and what have you got to say about the
disappearance of the diamonds?" pursued the relentless inquisitor.
"Carol Linescu. I used to run a livery stable in Bucharest, Roumania.
The guy who stole the diamonds is that fat little loafer Olaf Yensen,
the first coachman. I am the second coachman. He must be the guilty
one because last week he tried to swipe my best pair of boots while I
was asleep."
"Terrible, ain't it? Any other reason? No?--All right, Carol, beat it.
Next! Now shoot 'em along quick, Thorney," Holmes said to the
secretary, as the Roumanian went out, and a heavy-set man with blond
hair, whose blue eyes blazed fiercely behind his spectacles, entered.
"Your name, please. And what do you know about the diamonds?"
"Heinrich Blumenroth, formerly of His Majesty the King of Bavaria's
royal gardens at Munich, Germany. I don't know who stole the diamonds,
but I can say that any one in the place is likely to have stolen them,
except Harrigan, La Violette, and myself. We are the only three that
are worth a darn. Nothing else, is there? I'd like to get back to the
gardens. Very busy this morning."
And the first gardener turned on his heel, whereupon Holmes remarked
with a grin:
"Sorry to have troubled you, Herr Blumenroth. You're all right. You're
exonerated. Next!"
A short and swarthy fellow entered, who looked like a bandit.
"Well, what's _your_ name, anyhow? Where did you drop from, and what
do you know about this affair?" queried Holmes.
"Demetrius Xanthopoulos. I am the second gardener, and I used to work
in the King of Greece's gardens at Corfu. I think that La Violette,
the chef, is the man who stole the cuff-buttons. He's entirely too
supercilious, and kicks me out of the kitchen every time I try to get
in after a hand-out!"
"All right. If I were Louis I'd do the same. Beat it. Next!"
"Er, ah,----I beg pardon, Holmes, you have now examined all of the
servants. Fourteen of them, you know," said Thorneycroft.
"Oh, yes. That's right," said Holmes, as he consulted the list in his
hand; "but you people here will have to be examined too,--every one of
you. No excuses, now," he added, as the Earl started to object. "You
hired me to find those stolen cuff-buttons, and by thunder, I'm going
to find them, no matter who it hits! Thorneycroft, what do you know as
to the probable guilty party?"
The perspiration stood out on the secretary's bald head, and he
stammered greatly as he replied:
"Well, er,--ah, you know, that is----"
"Come, come! Don't keep me waiting all day. Speak up."
"Well, if you must know, I think that the Earl's Italian valet, Luigi
Vermicelli, is the man. He was the last man near the cuff-buttons when
the Earl retired Sunday night."
"Yes, that's what Galetchkoff said. I should think that you'd show
greater originality than that, Eustace. Lord Launcelot, I shall have
to question you as to your opinion on the robbery."
"Well, I think that Pete Van Damm took 'em,--my valet, you know.
Entirely too fresh, that fellow. Thinks he knows more than I do, bah
Jove!"
"Wouldn't be at all surprised if he did," muttered Holmes under his
breath, adding aloud: "Mr. Tooter, you are the Countess's uncle, I
believe. What do you know about the affair?"
"Mr. Holmes, I don't like to say it, because he's an awfully good
fellow, but between you and me, I think that Joe Harrigan, the butler,
swiped the diamonds," answered the elderly man from India. "He gets
pretty well soused sometimes, as I have observed, and you know that a
man in that condition is likely to do almost anything."
"Under the same principle, then, you may be guilty also, Uncle
Tooter," interposed the Earl, "because you know blamed well that I've
caught both you and Harrigan down in the wine-cellar many a time since
you've been here. I guess that'll be about all from you."
The India merchant subsided, and Holmes turned to Billie Hicks. "Mr.
Hicks of Canada, what do you say about it?"
"Unquestionably the guilty man is that Russian scoundrel Ivan
Galetchkoff," replied Hicks, "he put pepper in the charlotte russe at
dinner on Sunday, and I nearly choked on it. A man who would do that
would steal sheep!"
"Well, Mr. Budd of Australia, we'll hear from you," said Holmes, as he
stretched out his arms and yawned.
"Sorry as I am to say it, Mr. Holmes, there stands the guilty wretch!"
and Mr. Budd pointed dramatically at the fidgeting and uneasy
Thorneycroft. "I saw him come out of the Earl's room late Sunday night
at an hour when all good citizens should be in bed."
"You're entirely mistaken, Budd, I assure you," said Thorneycroft
nervously. "I am as innocent as you are, and you know it. I just went
into His Lordship's room Sunday night to get my pocket-comb."
Holmes grinned as he looked at the secretary's more or less bald pate,
and said:
"I don't see what you want with a comb, Thorney. But we'll give your
alibi due consideration, nevertheless. Well, I guess I've questioned
everybody in the castle now, Your Lordship, including the mutual
admiration society formed by Harrigan, La Violette and Blumenroth."
And Holmes turned an inquiring countenance to the Earl.
"Er, well, not exactly, Holmes. You haven't interrogated the Countess
and myself," smiled the Earl.
"By George, that's right! Here, somebody, get the Countess in here."
In a moment the mistress of Normanstow Towers stood before us. She
gave a sniff of disdain as she looked at her brother-in-law, Lord
Launcelot.
"I beg pardon, Your Ladyship, but what do you know concerning this sad
affair?" asked Holmes politely,--that is to say, politely for him.
The Countess regarded Launcelot with a frown, as she replied:
"I am practically certain that the man who has brought this disgrace
upon our ancient family is Lord Launcelot, the Earl's own brother. He
was entirely in too much of a hurry to get away from here yesterday
morning to rush into London to tell you about it. He did it just to
cover up his own theft."
"These family jars do beat the dickens," said Holmes, scratching his
head in perplexity, while the Countess sailed out of the room, very
much on her dignity. "Your Lordship, what's your own opinion as to the
robbery?"
"Oh, good night! Don't ask me. I give it up. Let's all have a drink,
and then adjourn somewhere else. The air is getting kind of close in
here, after all these hot accusations. Harrigan," the Earl added,
turning to the butler, who had just returned from the corridor, "pour
us out one or two glasses of wine, or three or four of them. Drink up,
gentlemen,--you, too, Letstrayed." And the Earl winked at me.