The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet Part 38

"Well, that is the story of this afternoon's tragedy, as I understand it," proceeded G.o.dfrey, more calmly. "And now I'm going to leave you.

I want you to think it over. If it doesn't hold together, show me where it doesn't. But it _will_ hold together--it _has_ to--because it's true!"

"But how about Armand?" I protested. "Aren't you going to try to capture him? Are you going to let him get away?"

"He won't get away!" and G.o.dfrey's eyes were gleaming again. "We don't have to search for him; for we've got our trap, Lester, and it's baited with a bait he can't resist--the Boule cabinet!"

"But he knows it's a trap."

"Of course he knows it!"

"And you really think he will walk into it?" I asked incredulously.

"I know he will! One of these days, he will try to get that cabinet out of the steel cell at the Twenty-third Street station, in which we have it locked!"

I shook my head.

"He's no such fool," I said. "No man is such a fool as that. He'll give it up and go quietly back to Paris."

"Not if he's the man I think he is," said G.o.dfrey, his hand on the door. "He will never give up! Just wait, Lester; we shall know in a day or two which of us is a true prophet. The only thing I am afraid of," he added, his face clouding, "is that he'll get away with the cabinet, in spite of us!"

And he went away down the hall, leaving me staring after him.

CHAPTER XXII

"CROCHARD, L'INVINCIBLE!"

It seemed for once that G.o.dfrey was destined to be wrong, for the days pa.s.sed and nothing happened--nothing, that is, in so far as the cabinet was concerned. There was an inquest, of course, over the victim of the latest tragedy, and once again I was forced to give my evidence before a coroner's jury. I must confess that, this time, it made me appear considerable of a fool, and the papers poked sly fun at the attorney who had walked blindly into a trap which, now that it was sprung, seemed so apparent.

The Bertillon measurements of the victim had been cabled to Paris, and he had been instantly identified as a fellow named Morel, well-known to the police as a daring and desperate criminal; in fact, M. Lepine considered the matter so important that he cabled next day that he was sending Inspector Pigot to New York to investigate the affair further, and to confer with our bureau as to the best methods to be taken to apprehend the murderer. Inspector Pigot, it was added, would sail at once for Havre on _La Savoie._

Meanwhile, Grady's men, with Simmonds at their head, strained every nerve to discover the whereabouts of the fugitive; a net was thrown over the entire city, but, while a number of fish were captured, the one which the police particularly wished for was not among them. Not a single trace of the fugitive was discovered; he had vanished absolutely, and, after a day or two, Grady a.s.serted confidently that he had left New York.

For Grady had come back into the case again, goaded by the papers, particularly by the _Record_, to efforts which he must have considered superhuman. The remarkable nature of the mystery, its picturesque and unique features, the fact that three men had been killed within a few days in precisely the same manner, and the absence of any reasonable hypothesis to explain these deaths--all this served to rivet public attention. Every amateur detective in the country had a theory to exploit--and far-fetched enough most of them were!

Grady did a lot of talking in those days, explaining in detail the remarkable measures he was taking to capture the criminal; but the fact remained that three men had been killed, and that no one had been punished; that a series of crimes had been committed, and that the criminal was still at large, and seemed likely to remain so; and, naturally enough, the papers, having exhausted every other phase of the case, were soon echoing public sentiment that something was wrong somewhere, and that the detective bureau needed an overhauling, beginning at the top.

The Boule cabinet remained locked up in a cell at the Twenty-third Street station; and Simmonds kept the key in his pocket. I know now that he was as much in the dark concerning the cabinet as the general public was; and the general public was very much in the dark indeed, for the cabinet had not figured in the accounts of the first two tragedies at all, and only incidentally in the reports of the latest one. As far as it was concerned, the affair seemed clear enough to most of the reporters, as an attempt to smuggle into the country an art object of great value. Such cases were too common to attract especial attention.

But Simmonds had come to see that Grady was tottering on his throne; he realised, perhaps, that his own head was not safe; and he had made up his mind to pin his faith to G.o.dfrey as the only one at all likely to lead him out of the maze. And G.o.dfrey laid the greatest stress upon the necessity of keeping the cabinet under lock and key; so under lock and key it was kept. As for Grady, I do not believe that, even at the last, he realised the important part the cabinet had played in the drama.

But while the Boule cabinet failed to focus the attention of the public, and while most of the reporters promptly forgot all about it, I was amused at the pains which G.o.dfrey took to inform the fugitive as to its whereabouts and as to how it was guarded. Over and over again, while the other papers wondered at his imbecility, he told how it had been placed in the strongest cell at the Twenty-third Street station; a cell whose bars were made of chrome-nickle steel which no saw could bite into; a cell whose lock was worked not only by a key but by a combination, known to one man only; a cell isolated from the others, standing alone in the middle of the third corridor, in full view of the officer on guard, so that no one could approach it, day or night, without being instantly discovered; a cell whose door was connected with an automatic alarm over the sergeant's desk in the front room; a cell, in short, from which no man could possibly escape, and which no man could possibly enter un.o.bserved.

Of the Boule cabinet itself G.o.dfrey said little, saving his story for the denouement which he seemed so sure would come; but the details which I have given above were dwelt upon in the _Record_, until, happening to meet G.o.dfrey on the street one day, I protested that he would only succeed in frightening the fugitive away altogether, even if he still had any designs on the cabinet, which I very much doubted. But G.o.dfrey only laughed.

"There's not the slightest danger of frightening him away," he said.

"This fellow isn't that kind. If I am right in sizing him up, he's the sort of dare-devil whom an insuperable difficulty only attracts.

The harder the job, the more he is drawn to it. That's the reason I am making this one just as hard as I can."

"But a man would be a fool to attempt to get to that cabinet," I protested. "It's simply impossible."

"It looks impossible, I'm free to admit," he agreed. "But, just the same, I wake every morning cold with fear, and run to the 'phone to make sure the cabinet's safe. If I could think of any further safeguards, I would certainly employ them."

I looked at G.o.dfrey searchingly, for it seemed to me that he must be jesting. He smiled as he caught my glance.

"I was never more in earnest in my life, Lester," he said. "You don't appreciate this fellow as I do. He's a genius; nothing is impossible to him. He disdains easy jobs; when he thinks a job is too easy, he makes it harder, just as a sporting chance. He has been known to warn people that they kept their jewels too carelessly, and then, after they had put them in a safer place, he would go and take them."

"That seems rather foolish, doesn't it?" I queried.

"Not from his point of view. He doesn't steal because he needs money, but because he needs excitement."

"You know who he is, then?" I demanded.

"I think I do--I hope I do; but I am not going to tell even you till I'm sure. I'll say this--if he is who I think he is, it would be a delight to match one's brains with his. We haven't got any one like him over here--which is a pity!"

I was inclined to doubt this, for I have no romantic admiration for gentlemen burglars, even in fiction. However picturesque and chivalric, a thief is, after all, a thief. Perhaps it is my training as a lawyer, or perhaps I am simply narrow, but crime, however brilliantly carried out, seems to me a sordid and unlovely thing. I know quite well that there are many people who look at these things from a different angle, G.o.dfrey is one of them.

I pointed out to him now that, if his intuitions were correct, he would soon have a chance to match his wits with those of the Great Unknown.

"Yes," he agreed, "and I'm scared to death--I have been ever since I began to suspect his ident.i.ty. I feel like a tyro going up against a master in a game of chess--mate in six moves!"

"I shouldn't consider you exactly a tyro," I said, drily.

"It's long odds that the Great Unknown will," G.o.dfrey retorted, and bade me good-bye.

Except for that chance meeting, I saw nothing of him, and in this I was disappointed, for there were many things about the whole affair which I did not understand. In fact, when I sat down of an evening and lit my pipe and began to think it over, I found that I understood nothing at all. G.o.dfrey's theory held together perfectly, so far as I could see, but it led nowhere. How had Drouet and Vantine been killed? Why had they been killed? What was the secret of the cabinet?

In a word, what was all this mystery about? Not one of these questions could I answer; and the solutions I guessed at seemed so absurd that I dismissed them in disgust. In the end, I found that the affair was interfering with my work, and I banished it from my mind, turning my face resolutely away from it whenever it tried to break into my thoughts.

But though I could shut it out of my waking hours successfully enough, I could not control my sleeping ones, and my dreams became more and more horrible. Always there was the serpent with dripping fangs, sometimes with Armand's head, sometimes with a face unknown to me, but hideous beyond description; its slimy body glittered with inlay and arabesque; its scaly legs were curved like those of the Boule cabinet; sometimes the golden sun glittered on its forehead like a great eye. Over and over again I saw this monster slay its three victims; and always, when that was done, it raised its head and glared at me, as though selecting me for the fourth.... But I shall not try to describe those dreams; even yet I cannot recall them without a shudder.

It was while I was sitting moodily in my room one night, debating whether or not to go to bed; weary to exhaustion and yet reluctant to resign myself to a sleep from which I knew I should wake shrieking, that a knock came at the door--a knock I recognised; and I arose joyfully to admit G.o.dfrey.

I could see by the way his eyes were shining that he had something unusual to tell me; and then, as he looked at me, his face changed.

"What's the matter, Lester?" he demanded. "You're looking f.a.gged out.

Working too hard?"

"It's not that," I said. "I can't sleep. This thing has upset my nerves, G.o.dfrey. I dream about it--have regular nightmares."

He sat down opposite me, concern and anxiety in his face.

"That won't do," he protested. "You must go away somewhere--take a rest, and a good long one."

"A rest wouldn't do me any good, as long as this mystery is unsolved," I said. "It's only by working that I can keep my mind off of it."

"Well," he smiled, "just to oblige you, we will solve it first, then."