The Ivory Snuff Box Part 11

"I want the money," Seltz cried, losing his patience, "and I want it quick." He sprang from his chair, and his hand shot toward his pocket, whence it reappeared in a moment with a revolver. "No more of this nonsense, now. I want the cash."

The doctor, who had also sprung to his feet, started toward the angry barber with outstretched hands. Seltz whirled on him, the revolver pointed directly at Hartmann's head. "Keep off," he cried. In his excitement he had forgotten Duvall, who at once seized him from behind.

"Look out, Doctor," he cried, as he threw his arm about the fellow's neck and slowly throttled him. "He's gone quite insane--dangerous--take away the revolver."

As he spoke, he tightened his arm about Seltz's throat until the latter gasped for breath. The revolver fell from his nerveless grasp--he clutched at the detective's arm and tried to tear it from his throat, all the while groaning and sputtering at a great rate.

"Hopelessly insane, I fear," said the doctor, as he picked up the fallen revolver. "You had best take him away at once."

"But, Doctor, I can't do anything with him in this violent state. Can't you give him something to quiet him?"

"Nothing but a hypodermic. He wouldn't swallow a drug, I fear."

"Then give him a hypodermic at once. I've got to get him away from here, somehow." He tightened his hold on Seltz's throat as the latter struggled furiously, trying his best to get away. Luckily for Duvall, his adversary was a man of only moderate strength, but he struggled like the madman the doctor supposed him to be, trying in vain to speak. The detective's arm, however, tightly wound about his throat, effectually prevented his cries from becoming intelligible.

"I'm so sorry, Doctor," Duvall went on, as Hartmann prepared his hypodermic needle and approaching the struggling man, took hold of one of his arms and bared it with a quick motion. "I wouldn't have subjected you to all this annoyance for anything. The poor fellow has been getting worse for days, but I had no idea, when he left me this morning, that he would be like this."

"It frequently happens," the doctor remarked, as he pressed the syringe into the man's forearm and then withdrew it quickly. "There--he'll soon be all right now. Just hold him there for a few moments longer, Mr.

Brooks and he'll be sleeping like a child."

Even as he spoke, the struggles of the man in Duvall's arms became less violent--his efforts to cry out less vigorous. "It's a sad case," the detective remarked. "I am very much afraid that he must be sent to an asylum."

"Undoubtedly the best place for him, my dear sir," remarked Hartmann, dryly. "I see your cab is waiting, outside. As soon as the man is quiet, I will have one of my attendants help you to carry him to it." He went over to Seltz, who was now struggling faintly, and felt his pulse. "He is quite harmless now," he observed, looking keenly into the man's face.

"I will call one of my men." He went to the wall and pressed an electric b.u.t.ton.

Duvall allowed the limp body of the barber to slip softly into a chair.

"Poor Oscar!" he said, musingly, looking down at the huddled-up figure.

"What a pity! Such a faithful fellow, too!" He turned to Hartmann. "I feel almost as though I had lost an old friend."

The doctor smiled. "Rather a dangerous one, I should say," he remarked, as he glanced at the revolver on the table. "You will want this, I suppose."

Duvall took the revolver and thrust it into his pocket. "Might as well take it along, I suppose, doctor. Now about my bill--do I owe you anything in addition to the fee I paid you on my arrival?" He felt for his pocketbook.

"Nothing, my dear sir." The doctor smiled. "I feel that in accepting your fee I am robbing you." He drew the note from his pocket, but Duvall waved it aside.

"I insist, my dear sir. You have given me your valuable time, at least, even if you could do this poor fellow no good." He paused, as an attendant in a gray uniform entered the room.

"Max," said the doctor, addressing the man, "help this gentleman put his friend into the cab."

The man came forward, and he and Duvall picked up the limp figure of Seltz, who was now sleeping soundly. In a few moments they had transferred him to the cab outside.

As they left the house, Duvall saw Grace standing near the door, her face pale, her eyes seeking his. He avoided her glances, making no sign that he recognized her. The doctor, somewhat annoyed, requested her, with elaborate but firm politeness, to withdraw. She did so, without looking back, but her heart was beating until it shook her whole body, and she longed to run to her husband and drive off with him, in spite of the doctor's presence. Somehow she felt that the necessity which had kept her a prisoner in this house no longer existed--that Richard had succeeded in recovering the ivory snuff box, and would soon send her word to join him, so that they might return to Paris together. She went to her room, ordered some luncheon brought to her, and sat down to await his message.

Meanwhile, Duvall, with Seltz beside him, drove rapidly away from the house, his arm about the man's unconscious figure. At the gate of the park he saw another cab waiting, and in a moment perceived that it contained Dufrenne, who in accordance with his instructions had been following Seltz. Duvall nodded to him, then pointed silently down the street. Dufrenne at once ordered his driver to follow. In a short time they had reached the Hotel Metropole, and Seltz, with the a.s.sistance of two of the porters, had been carried upstairs and placed on the bed.

Duvall explained to the manager of the hotel that the man was a friend of his, who had been taken ill, and needed to sleep for a few hours. He also engaged the adjoining room at once, and thither he and Dufrenne presently repaired to examine the snuff box which, until now, had been reposing safely in the detective's waistcoat pocket.

He drew it out, when they were alone, and silently handed it to Dufrenne. The little old Frenchman took one look at it, then threw up his hands with a cry of joy. "It is the Amba.s.sador's snuff box. Heavens be praised!" he cried, as the tears coursed down his withered cheeks.

CHAPTER XII

Richard Duvall looked at the tense figure, the agitated face of his companion, and once again a feeling of surprise swept over him, as he observed the little Frenchman's joy at the recovery of Monsieur de Grissac's snuff box.

Throughout the exciting events of the morning, and of the night before, the detective had lost sight of the apparent insignificance of the object of their search; now that he for the first time saw it before him, his curiosity was once more aroused. Surely there must be something of vast interest about this apparently worthless bit of ivory, to make its theft the reason for a brutal murder, its recovery a matter of such extreme importance that Monsieur Lefevre should consider the honor of his country at stake.

He took the box from Dufrenne's trembling fingers and examined it carefully. It was about two and a half inches in circ.u.mference, and quite shallow, not over half an inch in depth, in all. The ivory was old and yellow from use and time, and very thin and smooth. The lightness of the box surprised him--it seemed to weigh almost nothing, as he balanced it on the palm of his hand.

The circular top of the box was curiously ornamented with a circle of small colorless pearls, of trifling value, set at regular intervals about the edge of the cover. Within this row of pearls was an inscription in Latin, carved in tiny letters in the ivory. From its first words, "_Pater noster_," Duvall saw that it was the Lord's Prayer.

The letters extended around the circ.u.mference of the box in several concentric lines, or rings, inside of the ring of pearls. In the center of the box was a cross of ivory, carved so as to be slightly raised above its general surface. Beyond this, the box contained no other ornamentation.

Along the front edge of the box Duvall noticed a small spring. He pressed it, in considerable excitement. Evidently the reason for the box's value must be within--some papers, no doubt, of extreme importance. He saw the cover of the box fly upward and glanced hastily inside. The box contained nothing but a few pinches of snuff.

Duvall was almost tempted to laugh. The whole thing seemed so ridiculous--so utterly absurd. Absent-mindedly he tried a pinch of the snuff, inhaling it into his nostrils. It produced nothing more startling than a violent fit of sneezing. Undoubtedly Monsieur de Grissac had told the truth. He did use snuff.

Closing the box, Duvall regarded it for a moment in silence, then looked at Dufrenne. "It isn't worth a hundred francs," he said.

"The box?" answered the curio dealer, as he followed Duvall's glances.

"No, monsieur--what you say is indeed true, yet I would not sell it for a hundred million."

"But why? What is there about it that makes it so valuable? Surely you can tell me that, now that we have safely recovered it."

"Alas, monsieur. I could not tell you, even if I knew, which I a.s.sure you I do not. I can only say that Monsieur Lefevre has told me that it holds within it the honor of my beloved country, and therefore I would not sell it for all the money in the world."

Duvall was clearly puzzled. "Well," he said at length, as he thrust the box into his pocket, "there's evidently some mystery about the thing that I do not understand, but I suppose I shall, some day. Just at present our first duty is to return the box to Monsieur de Grissac."

"You are right, monsieur, and at once. There is a train for Antwerp in half an hour. From there we can take the night boat to Harwich. Let us set out without further delay."

"And that fellow in there?" remarked the detective with a grim laugh.

"We've got to take him with us, you know. He'll be wanted in London for the murder of the man Noel."

"Yes. That also is important." Dufrenne went into the adjoining room and stood looking at the sleeping barber. "But not so important as the return of the snuff box to Monsieur de Grissac."

Duvall followed him, and lifting one of Seltz's arms, let it drop suddenly. It fell to his side, lifeless. "He's sleeping like a log. The doctor must have given him a pretty stiff dose. I don't see how we are going to travel with him in this condition."

"Then we must leave him in the care of Monsieur Lefevre's other agents here in Brussels. We cannot delay an instant, on any account."

"I do not agree with you, monsieur. There is one thing which is as important to me as the recovery of the snuff box could possibly be to Monsieur de Grissac, and that is, the safety of my wife."

"Your wife?" Dufrenne stared at him in surprise.

"Yes, monsieur, my wife. She is at present in Dr. Hartmann's house. How she came there, I do not know, but I imagine that our friend the Prefect sent her there, to a.s.sist, if occasion offered, in our work. In that he was wise; but for her presence, I fear my plan would have failed. Had Seltz rung the doorbell, and been admitted by any of the doctor's servants, I doubt if I should have been able to get the box from him before the latter had seen him. I should then have been obliged to use force, and the results might have been disastrous."

"Yes, monsieur. I see that. The young lady at Dr. Hartmann's was sent by Monsieur Lefevre. His agents here have already informed me of that. But that she is your wife I did not know." He pondered for a moment, glancing at his watch. "It is a great pity. Delay may be most dangerous.

Why do you not send her word to join you in Paris?"

Duvall frowned, and began to walk about the room nervously. "A few hours' delay can make no difference," he presently said. "The box is perfectly safe in our hands. I am not, however, at all convinced that my wife is perfectly safe in the hands of Dr. Hartmann."