The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet: A Detective StoryStevenson, Burton Egbert
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The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet: A Detective Story
Stevenson, Burton Egbert
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
I confided this idea to Godfrey as we went down the front steps.
"Perhaps you're right," he agreed. "I don't believe the fellow is
really crooked. Something has happened to him--something in
connection with that woman--and he has never got over it. Well, we
shall have to find out what it was. Hello, here are Simmonds's men,"
he added, as two policemen stopped before the house.
"Is this Mr. Godfrey?" one of them asked.
"Yes," said Godfrey.
"Mr. Simmonds told us to report to you, sir, if you were here."
"What we want you to do," said Godfrey, "is to watch the house--watch
it from all sides--patrol clear around it, and see that no one
approaches it."
"Very well, sir," and the men touched their helmets, and one of them
went around to the back of the house, while the other remained in
front.
"Perhaps if they concealed themselves," I suggested, "the fellow
might venture back and be nabbed."
But Godfrey shook his head.
"I don't want him to venture back," he said. "I want to scare him
off. I want him to see we're thoroughly on guard." He hailed a
passing cab, and paused with one foot on the step. "I've already told
you, Lester," he added, over his shoulder, "that I'm afraid of him.
Perhaps you thought I was joking, but I wasn't. I was never more
serious in my life. The _Record_ office," he added to the cabby, and
jingled away, leaving me staring after him.
As I turned homeward, I could not but ponder over this remarkable and
mysterious being with whom Godfrey was so impressed. Never before had
I known him to hesitate to match himself with any adversary; but now,
it seemed to me, he shunned the contest, or at least feared it
--feared that he might be outwitted and outplayed! How great a
compliment that was to the mysterious unknown only I could guess!
And then I shivered a little as I recalled that mocking and ironic
laughter. And I quickened my step, with a glance over my shoulder;
for if Godfrey was afraid, how much more reason had I to be! It was
with a sense of relief, of which I was a little ashamed, that I
reached my apartment at the Marathon and locked the door.
Just before I turned in for the night, I heard from Godfrey again,
for my telephone rang, and it was his voice that answered.
"I just wanted to tell you, Lester," he said, "that your guess was
right. The mysterious Frenchman came over on _La Touraine_, landing
at noon yesterday. He came in the steerage, and the stewards know
nothing about him. What time was it he got to Vantine's?"
"About two, I should say."
"So he probably went directly there from the boat, as you thought.
That accounts for nobody knowing him. The steamship company is
holding a bag belonging to him. I'll get them to open it to-morrow,
and perhaps we shall find out who he was."
"But, Godfrey," I broke in, "how about this other fellow--the man
with the burning eyes? He's getting on my nerves!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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