Round the Fire Stories

“Impossible, sir.”

“Or passed you at the door?”

“No, sir; I never left my post except when I walked my rounds.”

“What other openings are there in the museum?”

“There is the door into Mr. Ward Mortimer’s private rooms.”

“That is locked at night,” my friend explained, “and in order to reachit any one from the street would have to open the outside door as well.”

“Your servants?”

“Their quarters are entirely separate.”

“Well, well,” said the inspector, “this is certainly very obscure.However, there has been no harm done, according to Mr. Purvis.”

“I will swear that those stones are genuine.”

“So that the case appears to be merely one of malicious damage. But nonethe less, I should be very glad to go carefully round the premises, andto see if we can find any trace to show us who your visitor may havebeen.”

His investigation, which lasted all the morning was careful andintelligent, but it led in the end to nothing. He pointed out to us thatthere were two possible entrances to the museum which we had notconsidered. The one was from the cellars by a trap-door opening in thepassage. The other through a skylight from the lumber-room, overlookingthat very chamber to which the intruder had penetrated. As neither thecellar nor the lumber-room could be entered unless the thief was alreadywithin the locked doors, the matter was not of any practical importance,and the dust of cellar and attic assured us that no one had used eitherone or the other. Finally, we ended as we began, without the slightestclue as to how, why, or by whom the setting of these four jewels hadbeen tampered with.

There remained one course for Mortimer to take, and he took it. Leavingthe police to continue their fruitless researches, he asked me toaccompany him that afternoon in a visit to Professor Andreas. He tookwith him the two letters, and it was his intention to openly tax hispredecessor with having written the anonymous warning, and to ask him toexplain the fact that he should have anticipated so exactly that whichhad actually occurred. The Professor was living in a small villa inUpper Norwood, but we were informed by the servant that he was away fromhome. Seeing our disappointment, she asked us if we should like to seeMiss Andreas, and showed us into the modest drawing-room.

I have mentioned incidentally that the Professor’s daughter was a verybeautiful girl. She was a blonde, tall and graceful, with a skin of thatdelicate tint which the French call “mat,” the colour of old ivory or ofthe lighter petals of the sulphur rose. I was shocked, however, as sheentered the room to see how much she had changed in the last fortnight.Her young face was haggard and her bright eyes heavy with trouble.

“Father has gone to Scotland,” she said. “He seems to be tired, and hashad a good deal to worry him. He only left us yesterday.

”

“You look a little tired yourself, Miss Andreas,” said my friend.

“I have been so anxious about father.”

“Can you give me his Scotch address?”

“Yes, he is with his brother, the Rev. David Andreas, 1, Arran Villas,Ardrossan.”

Ward Mortimer made a note of the address, and we left without sayinganything as to the object of our visit. We found ourselves in BelmoreStreet in the evening in exactly the same position in which we had beenin the morning. Our only clue was the Professor’s letter, and my friendhad made up his mind to start for Ardrossan next day, and to get to thebottom of the anonymous letter, when a new development came to alter ourplans.

Very early on the following morning I was aroused from my sleep by a tapupon my bedroom door. It was a messenger with a note from Mortimer.

“Do come round,” it said; “the matter is becoming more and moreextraordinary.”

When I obeyed his summons I found him pacing excitedly up and down thecentral room, while the old soldier who guarded the premises stood withmilitary stiffness in a corner.

“My dear Jackson,” he cried, “I am so delighted that you have come, forthis is a most inexplicable business.”

“What has happened, then?”

He waved his hand towards the case which contained the breastplate.

“Look at it,” said he.

I did so, and could not restrain a cry of surprise. The setting of themiddle row of precious stones had been profaned in the same manner asthe upper ones. Of the twelve jewels, eight had been now tampered within this singular fashion. The setting of the lower four was neat andsmooth. The others jagged and irregular.

“Have the stones been altered?” I asked.