Detective and mystery stories; Jewelry theft -- Fiction
“That’s true; but there is so little I can tell you. I do not know what
was in the box about which you express so much concern, and I do not
know the names of its owners. It was brought here some six months ago
and placed in the spot where you saw it this morning, upon conditions
that were satisfactory to me, and not at all troublesome to my patients,
whose convenience I was bound to consult. It has remained there till
to-day, when----”
Here the officer interrupted him.
“What were these conditions? The matter calls for frankness.”
“The conditions,” repeated the doctor, in no wise abashed, “were these:
That it should occupy the large table in the window as long as they
saw fit. That, though placed in my room, it should be regarded as the
property of the society which owned it, and, consequently, free to the
inspection of its members but to no one else. That I should know these
members by their ability to open the box, and that so long as these
persons confined their visits to my usual hours for patients, they were
to be subject to no one’s curiosity, nor allowed to suffer from any
one’s interference. In return for these slight concessions, I was to
receive five dollars for every day I allowed it to stay here, payment to
be made by mail.”
“Good business! And you cannot tell the names of the persons with whom
you entered into this contract?”
“No; the one who came to me first and saw to the placing of the box
and all that, was a short, sturdy fellow, with a common face but very
brilliant eye; he it was who made the conditions; but the man who came
to get it, and who paid me twenty dollars for opening my office door
at an unusual hour, was a more gentlemanly man, with a thick, brown
mustache and resolute look. He was accompanied----”
“Why do you stop?”
The doctor smiled.
“I was wondering,” said he, “if I should say he was accompanied, or that
he accompanied, a woman, of such enormous size that the doorway hardly
received her. I thought she was a patient at first, for, large as she
is, she was brought into my room in a chair, which it took four men to
carry. But she only came about the box.”
“Madame!” I muttered; and being made still more eager by this discovery
of her direct participation in its carrying off, I asked if she touched
the box or whether it was taken away unopened.
The doctor’s answer put an end to every remaining hope I may have
cherished.
“She not only touched but opened it. I saw the lid rise and heard a
whirr. What is the matter, sir?”
“Nothing,” I made haste to say--“that is, nothing I can communicate
just now. This woman must be followed,” I signified to the officer, and
was about to rush from the room when my eye fell on the table where the
box stood.
“See!” said I, pointing to a fine wire protruding from a small hole
in the center of its upper surface; “this box had connection with some
point outside of this room.”
The doctor’s face flushed, and for the first time he looked a trifle
foolish.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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