The Diamond Master Part 14

The chief shrugged his shoulders impatiently. Some illuminating thought shone for an instant in Mr. Wynne's clear eyes and he nodded as if a question in his mind had been answered.

"Perhaps, Chief, there may be some mistake?" he protested half-heartedly.

"Perhaps this gentleman--what motive would--"

"There's motive enough," interrupted the chief briskly. "We have this man's description straight from his accomplice, Red Haney, even to the scar on his face--" He paused abruptly, and regarded Mr. Wynne through half-closed lids. "By the way," he continued deliberately, "who are _you?_ What do _you_ know about it?"

"My name is Wynne--E. van Cortlandt Wynne" was the ready response.

"I am directly interested in this case through a long-standing friendship for Mr. Kellner here, and through the additional fact that his granddaughter in the adjoining room is soon to become my wife." There was a little pause. "I may add that I live in New York, and that Miss Kellner has been stopping there for several days.

She has been accustomed to hearing from her grandfather at least once a day by telephone, but she was unable to get an answer either yesterday or to-day, so she came to my home, and together we came out here."

Mr. Birnes looked up quickly. It had suddenly occurred to him to wonder as to the whereabouts of Claflin and Sutton, who had been on watch at the Thirty-seventh Street house. The young man interpreted the expression of his face aright, and favored him with a meaning glance.

"We came alone," he supplemented.

Mr. Birnes silently pondered it.

"All that being true," Chief Arkwright suggested tentatively, "perhaps you can give us some information as to the diamonds that were stolen? How much were they worth? How many were there?" He held up the uncut stones that had been found on the floor.

"I don't know their exact number," was the reply. "Their value, I should say, was about sixty thousand dollars. Except for this little house, and the grounds adjoining, practically all of Mr. Kellner's money was invested in diamonds. Those you have there are part of an acc.u.mulation of many years, imported in the rough, one or two at a time."

Mr. Czenki was gazing abstractedly out of a window, but the expression on his lean face indicated the keenest interest, and--and something else; apprehension, maybe. The chief stared straight into the young man's eyes for an instant, and then:

"And Mr. Kellner's family?" he inquired.

"There is no one, except his granddaughter, Doris."

Some change, sudden as it was p.r.o.nounced, came over the chief, and his whole att.i.tude altered. He dropped into a chair near the door.

"Have a seat, Mr. Wynne," he invited courteously, "and let's understand this thing clearly. Over there, please," and he indicated a chair partly facing that in which Mr. Czenki sat.

Mr. Wynne sat down.

"Now you don't seem to believe," the chief went on pleasantly, "that Czenki here killed Mr. Kellner?"

"Well, no," the young man admitted.

Mr. Czenki glanced at him quickly, warningly. The chief was not looking, but he knew the glance had pa.s.sed.

"And _why_ don't you believe it?" he continued.

"In the first place," Mr. Wynne began without hesitation, "the diamonds were worth only about sixty thousand dollars, and Mr. Czenki here draws a salary of twenty-five thousand dollars a year. The proportion is wrong, you see. Again, Mr. Czenki is a man of unquestioned integrity. As diamond expert of the Henry Latham Company he handles millions of dollars' worth of precious stones each year, and has practically unlimited opportunities for theft, without murder, if he were seeking to steal. He has been with that company for several years, and that fact alone is certainly to his credit."

"Very good," commented the chief ambiguously. He paused an instant to study this little man with an interest aroused by the sum of his salary. "And what of Haney's description? His accusation?" he asked.

"Haney might have lied, you know," retorted Mr. Wynne. "Men in his position have been known to lie."

"I understood you to say," the chief resumed, heedless of the note of irony in the other's voice, "that you and Miss Kellner are to be married?"

"Yes."

"And that she is the only heir of her grandfather?"

"Yes."

"Therefore, at his death, the diamonds would become her property?"

For one instant Mr. Wynne seemed startled, and turned his clear eyes full upon his interrogator, seeking the hidden meaning.

"Yes, but--" he began slowly.

"That's true, isn't it?" demanded the chief, with quick violence.

"Yes, that's true," Mr. Wynne admitted calmly.

"Therefore, indirectly, it would have been to _your_ advantage if Mr.

Kellner had died or had been killed?"

"In that the diamonds would have come to my intended wife, yes," was the reply.

Mr. Czenki clasped and unclasped his thin hands nervously. His face was again expressionless, and the beady eyes were fastened immovably on Chief Arkwright's. Mr. Birnes was frankly amazed at this unexpected turn of the affair. Suddenly Chief Arkwright brought his hand down on the arm of his chair with a bang.

"Suppose, for the moment, that Red Haney lied, and that Mr. Czenki is _not_ the murderer, then--As a matter of fact _your_ salary isn't twenty-five thousand a year, is it?"

He was on his feet now, with blazing eyes, and one hand was thrust accusingly into Mr. Wynne's face. It was simulation; Mr. Birnes understood it; a police method of exhausting possibilities. There was not the slightest movement by Mr. Wynne to indicate uneasiness at the charge, not a tremor in his voice when he spoke again.

"I understand perfectly, Chief," he remarked coldly. "Just what was the time of the crime, may I ask?"

"Answer my question," insisted the Chief thunderously.

"Now look here, Chief," Mr. Wynne went on frigidly, "I am not a child to be frightened into making any absurd statements. I do _not_ draw a salary of twenty-five thousand a year, no. I am in business for myself, and make more than that. You may satisfy yourself by examining the books in my office if you like. By intimation, at least, you are accusing me of murder. Now answer me a question, please. What was the time of the crime?"

CHAPTER XV

THE TRUTH IN PART

The chief dropped back into his chair with the utmost complacency.

This was not the kind of man with whom mere bl.u.s.ter counted.

"Haney says Sat.u.r.day morning," he answered. "The coroner's physician agrees with that."

"Yesterday morning," Mr. Wynne mused; then, after a moment: "I think, Chief, you know Mr. Birnes here? And that you would accept a statement of his as correct?"

"Yes," the chief agreed with a glance at Mr. Birnes.

"Mr. Birnes, where was I all day Sat.u.r.day?" Mr. Wynne queried, without so much as looking around at him.