The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet Part 45

"Has anyone sent for a doctor?" I asked.

"Yes, sir," one of the bank attaches answered. "We telephoned for one at once--here he is, now!" he added, as a little black-bearded man entered, carry the inevitably-identifying medicine case.

The newcomer glanced at the body, waved us back, fell on one knee, stripped away the clothing from the breast and applied his ear to the heart. Then he looked into the staring eyes, drew down the lids, watched them snap up again, and then hastily opened his case.

"Let's have some water," he said.

"Then he's not dead?" I questioned, as one of the clerks sprang to obey.

"Dead? No; but he's had a taste or whiff of something that has stopped the heart action."

With a queer, creepy feeling over my scalp, I remembered the little flask half-full of blood-red liquid which Crochard carried in his pocket.

But he had not meant murder this time; I remembered that G.o.dfrey had said he never killed an adversary. The doctor worked briskly away, and, at the end of a few minutes, Simmonds's eyes suddenly closed, he drew a long breath, and sat erect. Then his eyes opened, and he sat swaying unsteadily and staring amazedly about him.

"Best lie down again," said the doctor soothingly. "You're a little wobbly yet, you know."

"Where am I?" gasped Simmonds. Then his eyes encountered mine.

"Lester!" he said. "Where is he--Piggott? Not...."

He stopped short, looked once around at the gleaming marble of the bank, fumbled for something at his side, and fell senseless on the seat.

I have no recollection of how I got back to the Marathon. I suppose I must have walked; but my first distinct remembrance is of finding myself sitting in my favourite chair, pipe in hand. The pipe was lit, so I suppose I must have lighted it mechanically, and I found that I had also mechanically changed into my lounging-coat. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was nearly four o'clock.

The top of my head was burning as though with fever, and I went into the bathroom and turned the cold water on it. The shock did me a world of good, and by the time I had finished a vigorous toweling I felt immensely better. So I returned to my chair and sat down to review the events of the evening; but I found that somehow my brain refused to work, and black circles began to whirl before my eyes again.

"I told G.o.dfrey I couldn't stand any more of this," I muttered, and stumbled into my bedroom, undressed with difficulty, and turned out the light.

Then, as I lay there, staring up into the darkness, a stinging thought brought me upright.

G.o.dfrey--where was G.o.dfrey? Was he on the track of Crochard? Was he daring a contest with him? Perhaps, even at this moment....

Scarcely knowing what I did, I groped my way to the telephone and asked for G.o.dfrey's number--hoping against hope absurdly--and at last, to my intense surprise and relief, I heard his voice--not a very amiable voice....

"h.e.l.lo!" he said.

"G.o.dfrey," I began, "it's Lester. He got away."

"Of course he got away. You didn't call me out of bed to tell me that, I hope?"

"Then you knew about it?"

"I knew he'd get away."

"When the wagon got to the bank there was n.o.body inside but Simmonds.

Simmonds went along, you know."

"Was he hurt?"

"He was unconscious, but he came around all right."

"That's good--but Crochard wouldn't hurt him. He got away with the jewels, of course?"

"Of course," I a.s.sented, surprised that G.o.dfrey should take it so coolly. "When you rushed out that way," I added, "I thought maybe you were going after him."

"With him twenty minutes in the lead? I'm no such fool! He got away from me the other day with a start of about half a second."

"I tried to get you," I explained, "as soon as Simmonds told me they were going to look at the cabinet. I 'phoned the office. The city editor said he had sent you out into Westchester."

G.o.dfrey laughed shortly.

"It was a wild-goose chase," he said, "cooked up by our friend Crochard. But even then, I'd have got back, if we hadn't punctured a tire when we were five miles from anywhere. I knew what was up--but there I was. Oh, he's made fools of us all, Lester. I told you he would!"

"Then you didn't get my message?"

"Yes--they gave it to me when I 'phoned in that the Westchester business was a fake. I rushed for the station, though I knew I'd be too late."

"But, G.o.dfrey," I said, "I can't understand, even yet, how he did it.

Grady and Simmonds left the boat with Pigot and were with him all evening, showing him the sights. How did Crochard get into it? What did he do with Pigot? Where _is_ Pigot?"

"He's on the _Savoie._ I rushed a wireless down to her as soon as I left the station. They made a search and found Pigot bound and gagged under the berth in his stateroom."

I could only gasp.

"And to think I didn't suspect!" added G.o.dfrey, bitterly. "We stood there and saw that yacht with the French flag walk away from us; we saw her put a man aboard the _Savoie_; we saw that man talking to Pigot...."

"Yes," I said, breathlessly; "yes."

"Well, that man was Crochard. He got Pigot into his stateroom--gave him a whiff of the same stuff he used on Simmonds, no doubt; put him out of the way under the berth; got into his clothes, made up his face, _put_ on a wig--and all that while we were kicking our heels outside waiting for him."

"But it was a tremendous risk," I said. "There were so many people on board who knew Pigot--it would have to be a perfect disguise."

"Crochard wouldn't stop for that. But it wasn't much of a risk. None of us had seen Pigot closely; all we had seen of him was the back of his head; and the pa.s.sengers were all on deck watching the quarantine men. And yet, of course, the disguise was a perfect one. Crochard is an artist in that line, and he was, no doubt, thoroughly familiar with Pigot's appearance. He deceived the purser--but the purser wouldn't suspect anything!"

"So it was really Crochard...."

"But _we_ ought to have suspected. We ought to have suspected everything, questioned everything; I ought to have looked up that visitor and found out what became of him. Instead of which, Crochard put Pigot's papers in his pocket, set his bag outside the stateroom door, and then came out calmly to meet his dear friends of the press; and I stood there talking to him like a little schoolboy--no wonder he thinks I'm a fool!"

"But n.o.body would have suspected!" I gasped. "Why, that man is- is...."

"A genius," said G.o.dfrey. "An absolute and unquestioned genius. But I knew that all the time, and I ought to have been on guard. You remember he said he would come to-day?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't believe it."

"I can't believe it yet."