The Diamond Master Part 13

"A granddaughter, yes," he said with a forced calm. "Rather a pretty girl, twenty-two or three years old? Sometimes she dresses in blue?"

"Yes," the agent agreed. "'Spect them's them. Follow the road there till you come to Widow Gardiner's hog-lot, then turn to your left, and it's about a quarter of a mile on. The only house up that way-- you can't miss it."

The agent stood squinting at them, with friendly inquiry radiating from his parchment-like countenance, and Mr. Birnes took an opportunity to ask some other questions.

"By the way, what sort of old man is this Mr. Kellner? What does he do? Is he wealthy?"

A pleasant grin overspread his informant's face; one finger was raised to his head and twirled significantly.

"'Spect he's crazy," he went on to explain. "Don't do nothing, so far as n.o.body knows--lives like a hermit, stays in the house all the time, and has long whiskers. Don't know whether he's rich or not, but 'spect he ain't becuz no man with money'd live like he does." He thrust a long forefinger into Mr. Birnes' face. "And stingy! He's so stingy he won't let n.o.body come in the house--scared they'll wear the furniture out looking at it."

"How long has he lived here?"

"There ain't n.o.body in this town old enough to say. Why, mister, I'll bet that old man's a thousand years old. Wait'll you see him."

That was all. They went on as indicated.

"The very type of man who would scrimp and starve to put all his money in something like diamonds," mused Chief Arkwright. "The usual rich old miser who winds up by being murdered."

They pa.s.sed the "Widow Gardiner's hog-lot" and came into a pleasant country road, which, turning, brought them to a shabby little cottage, embowered in trees. Through the foliage, farther on, they caught the amber gleam of a languid river; and around their feet, as they entered the yard, scores of pigeons fluttered.

"Carriers!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Birnes, as if startled.

With a strange feeling of elation the detective led the way up the steps to the veranda and knocked. There was no answer. He glanced at the chief significantly, and tried the door. It was locked.

"Try the back door," directed Chief Arkwright tersely. "If that's locked we'll go in anyway."

They pa.s.sed around the house to the rear, and Mr. Birnes laid one hand upon the door-k.n.o.b. He turned it and the door swung inward.

Again he glanced at Chief Arkwright. The chief nodded, and led the way into the house. They stood in a kitchen, clean as to floors and tables, but now in the utmost disorder. They spent only a moment here, then pa.s.sed into the narrow hall, along this to a door that stood open, and then--then Chief Arkwright paused, staring downward, and respectfully lifted his hat.

"Always the same," he remarked enigmatically.

Mr. Birnes thrust himself forward and through the door. On the floor, with white face turned upward, and fixed, staring eyes, lay an old man. His venerable gray hair, long and unkempt, fell back from a brow of n.o.ble proportions, the wide, high brow of the student; and a great, snow-white beard rippled down over his breast. Save for the gla.s.siness of the eyes the face was placid in death, even as it must have been in life.

Mutely Mr. Birnes examined the body. A blow in the back of the head--that was all. Then he glanced around the room inquiringly.

Everything was in order, except--except here lay an overturned cigar-box. He picked it up; two uncut diamonds were on the floor beneath it. The rough, inert pebbles silently attested the obvious manner of death which simultaneously forced itself upon the three men--the cowardly blow of an a.s.sa.s.sin, a dying struggle, perhaps, for the contents of the box, and this--the end!

From outside came sharply in the silence the rattle of wheels on the gravel of the road, and a vehicle stopped in front of the door.

"Sh-h-h-h!" warned the chief.

Some one came along the walk, up the steps and rapped briskly on the door; the detectives waited motionless, silent The k.n.o.b rattled under impatient fingers, then the footsteps pa.s.sed along the veranda quickly, and were lost, as if some one had stepped off at the end intending to come to the back door, which was open. A moment later they heard steps in the kitchen, then in the narrow hall approaching, and the doorway of the room where they stood framed the figure of a man. It was Mr. Czenki.

"There's your man, Chief," remarked Mr. Birnes quietly.

The diamond expert permitted his gaze to wander from one to another of the three men, and then the beady black eyes came to rest on the silent, outstretched figure of the old man. He started forward impulsively; the grip of Detective-Sergeant Connelly on his arm stopped him.

"You're my prisoner!"

"Yes, I understand," said Mr. Czenki impatiently. He didn't even look up; he was still gazing at the figure on the floor.

"Well, what have you got to say for yourself?" demanded Chief Arkwright coldly.

Mr. Czenki met the accusing stare of the chief squarely for an instant, then the keen eyes shifted to the slightly flushed face of Mr. Birnes and lingered there interrogatively.

"I have nothing whatever to say," he replied at last, and he drew one hand slowly across his thin, scarred face. "Yes, I understand," he repeated absently. "I have nothing to say."

CHAPTER XIV

CAUGHT IN THE NET

Doris looked down in great, dry-eyed horror upon the body of this withered old man whom she had loved, and the thin thread of life within her all but snapped. It had come; the premonition of disaster had been fulfilled; the last of her blood had been sacrificed to the mercilessly glittering diamonds--father, brother and now him! Mr.

Wynne's face went white, and his teeth closed fiercely; he had loved this old man, too; then the shock pa.s.sed and he turned anxiously to Doris to receive the limp, inert figure in his arms. She had fainted.

"Well, what do _you_ know about it?" inquired Chief Arkwright abruptly.

Mr. Wynne was himself again instantly--the calm, self-certain perfectly poised young man of affairs. He glanced at the chief, then shot a quick, inquiring look at Mr. Czenki. Almost imperceptibly the diamond expert shook his head. Then Mr. Wynne's eyes turned upon Mr. Birnes. There had been triumph in the detective's face until that moment, but, under the steady, meaning glare which was directed at him, triumph faded to a sort of wonder, followed by a vague sense of uneasiness, and he read a command in the fixed eyes--a command to silence. Curiously enough it reminded him that he was in the employ of Mr. Latham, and that there were certain business secrets to be protected. He regarded the coroner's physician, hastily summoned for a perfunctory examination.

"Well?" demanded the chief again.

"Nothing--of this," replied Mr. Wynne. "I think, Doctor," and he addressed the physician, "that she needs you more than he does. We know only too well what's the matter with him."

The physician arose obediently. Mr. Wynne gathered up the slender, still figure in his arms, and bore it away to another room. The doctor bent over Doris, and tested the fluttering heart.

"Only shock," he said finally, when he looked up. "She'll come round all right in a little while."

"Thank G.o.d!" the young man breathed softly.

He stooped and pressed reverent lips to the marble-white brow, then straightened up and, after one long, lingering look at her, turned quickly and left the room.

"I have no statement to make," Mr. Czenki was saying, in that level, unemotional way of his, when Mr. Wynne reentered the room where lay the dead.

"We are to a.s.sume that you are guilty, then?" demanded Chief Arkwright with cold finality.

"I have nothing to say," replied the expert. His gaze met that of Mr. Wynne for a moment, then settled on the venerable face of the old man.

"Guilty?" interposed Mr. Wynne quickly. "Guilty of what?"

Chief Arkwright, without speaking, waved his hand toward the body on the floor. There was a flash of amazement in the young man's face, a sudden bewilderment; the diamond expert's countenance was expressionless.

"You don't deny that you killed him?" persisted the chief accusingly.

"I have nothing to say," said the expert again.

"And you don't deny that you were Red Haney's accomplice?"

"I have nothing to say," was the monotonous answer.