Elusive Isabel, by Jacques Futrelle (6 page)

“Yes, I’ve seen Johnson,” interrupted Campbell. “Are you absolutely positive that the woman you saw get into the automobile with Mr. Cadwallader was Miss Thorne?”

“Absolutely,” replied Hastings without hesitation. “I saw her in her own room with her wraps on, then saw her come down and get into the car.”

“That’s all,” said the chief. “Good night.” For an hour or more he sat in a great, comfortable chair in the smoking-room of his own home, the guileless blue eyes vacant, staring, and spidery lines in the benevolent forehead.

*

On the morning of the second day following, Senor Rodriguez, the minister from Venezuela, reported to the Secret Service Bureau the disappearance of fifty thousand dollars in gold from a safe in his private office at the legation.

Mr. Campbell was talking.

“For several months past,” he said, “the International Investment Company, through its representative, Mr. Cressy, has been secretly negotiating with Senor Rodriguez for certain asphalt properties in Venezuela. Three days ago these negotiations were successfully concluded, and yesterday afternoon Mr. Cressy, in secret, paid to Senor Rodriguez, fifty thousand dollars in American gold, the first of four payments of similar sums. This gold was to have been shipped to Philadelphia by express to-day to catch a steamer for Venezuela.” Mr. Grimm nodded.

“The fact that this gold was in Senor Rodriguez’s possession could not have been known to more than half a dozen persons, as the negotiations throughout have been in strict secrecy,” and Mr. Campbell smiled benignly. “So much! Now, Senor Rodriguez has just telephoned asking that I send a man to the legation at once. The gold was kept there over night; or perhaps I should say that the senor intended to keep it there over night.” Mr. Campbell stared at Mr. Grimm for a moment, then: “Miss Thorne, you know, is a guest at the legation, that is why I am referring the matter to you.”

“I understand,” said Mr. Grimm.

And ten minutes later Mr. Grimm presented himself to Senor Rodriguez. The minister from Venezuela, bubbling with excitement, was pacing forth and back across his office, ruffling his gray-black hair with nervous, twining fingers. Mr. Grimm sat down.

“Senor,” he inquired placidly, “fifty thousand dollars in gold would weigh nearly two hundred pounds, wouldn’t it?”

Senor Rodriguez stared at him blankly.

“
Si, Senor
,” he agreed absently. And then, in English: “Yes, I should imagine so.”

“Well, was all of it stolen, or only a part of it?” Mr. Grimm went on.

The minister gazed into the listless eyes for a time, then, apparently bewildered, walked forth and back across the room again. Finally he sat down.

“All of it,” he admitted. “I can’t understand it. No one, not a soul in this house, except myself, knew it was here.”

“In addition to this weight of, say two hundred pounds, fifty thousand dollars would make considerable bulk,” mused Mr. Grimm. “Very well! Therefore it would appear that the person, or persons, who got it must have gone away from here heavily laden?”

Senor Rodriguez nodded.

“And now, Senor,” Mr. Grimm continued, “if you will kindly state the circumstances immediately preceding and following the theft?”

A slight frown which had been growing upon the smooth brow of the diplomatist was instantly dissipated.

“The money—fifty thousand dollars in gold coin—was paid to me yesterday afternoon about four o’clock,” he began slowly, in explanation.

“By Mr. Cressy of the International Investment Company,” supplemented Mr. Grimm. “Yes. Go on.”

The diplomatist favored the young man with one sharp, inquiring glance, and continued:

“The gentleman who paid the money remained here from four until nine o’clock while I, personally, counted it. As I counted it I placed it in canvas bags and when he had gone I took these bags from this room into that,” he indicated a closed door to his right, “and personally stowed them away in the safe. I closed and locked the door of the safe myself; I
know
that it
was
locked. And that’s all, except this morning the money was gone—every dollar of it.”

“Safe blown?” inquired Mr. Grimm.

“No, Senor!” exclaimed the diplomatist with sudden violence. “No, the safe was not blown! It was
closed and locked
, exactly as I had left it!”

Mr. Grimm was idly twisting the seal ring on his little finger.

“Just as I left it!” Senor Rodriguez repeated excitedly. “Last night after I locked the safe door I tried it to make certain that it
was
locked. I happened to notice then that the pointer on the dial had stopped precisely at number forty-five. This morning, when I unlocked the safe—and, of course, I didn’t know then that the money had been taken—the pointer was still at number forty-five.”

He paused with one hand in the air; Mr. Grimm continued to twist the seal ring.

“It was all like—like some trick on the stage,” the minister went on, “like the magician’s disappearing lady, or—or—! It was as though I had not put the money into the safe at all!”

“Did you?” inquired Mr. Grimm amiably.

“Did I?” blazed Senor Rodriguez. “Why, Senor—! I did!” he concluded meekly.

Mr. Grimm believed him.

“Who else knows the combination of the safe?” he queried.

“No one, Senor—not a living soul.”

“Your secretary, for instance?”

“Not even my secretary.”

“Some servant—some member of your family?”

“I tell you, Senor, not one person in all the world knew that combination except myself,” Senor Rodriguez insisted.

“Your secretary—a servant—some member of your family might have seen you unlock the safe some time, and thus learned the combination?”

Senor Rodriguez did not quite know whether to be annoyed at Mr. Grimm’s persistence, or to admire the tenacity with which he held to this one point.

“You must understand, Senor Grimm, that many state documents are kept in the safe,” he said finally, “therefore it is not advisable that any one should know the combination. I have made it an absolute rule, as did my predecessors here, never to unlock the safe in the presence of another person.”

“State documents!” Mr. Grimm’s lips silently repeated the words. Then aloud: “Perhaps there’s a record of the combination somewhere? If you had died suddenly, for instance, how would the safe have been opened?”

“There would have been only one way, Senor—blow it open. There is no record.”

“Well, if we accept all that as true,” observed Mr. Grimm musingly, “it would seem that you either didn’t put the money into the safe at all, or—please sit down, there’s nothing personal in this—or else the money was taken out of the safe without it being unlocked. This last would have been a miracle, and this is not the day of miracles, therefore—!”

Mr. Grimm’s well modulated voice trailed off into silence. Senor Rodriguez came to his feet with a blaze of anger in his eyes; Mr. Grimm was watching him curiously.

“I understand then, Senor,” said the minister deliberately, “that you believe that I—!”

“I believe that you have told the truth,” interrupted Mr. Grimm placidly, “that is the truth so far as you know it. But you have stated one thing in error. Somebody besides yourself
does
know the combination. Whether they knew it or not at this time yesterday I can’t say, but somebody knows it now.”

Senor Rodriguez drew a deep breath of relief. The implied accusation had been withdrawn as pleasantly and frankly as it had been put forward.

“I ran across a chap in New York once, for instance,” Mr. Grimm took the trouble to explain, “who could unlock any safe—that is, any safe of the kind used at that time—twelve or fourteen years ago. So you see. I doubt if he would be so successful with the new models, with all their improvements, but then—! You know he would have made an ideal burglar, that chap. Now, Senor, who lives here in the legation with you?”

“My secretary, Senor Diaz, my daughter Inez, and just at the moment, a Miss Thorne—Miss Isabel Thorne,” the senor informed him. “Also four servants—two men and two women.”

“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your daughter and Miss Thorne,” Mr. Grimm informed him. “Now, suppose we take a look at the safe?”

“Certainly.”

Senor Rodriguez started toward the closed door just as there came a timid knock from the hall. He glanced at Mr. Grimm, who nodded, then he called:

“Come in!”

The door opened, and Miss Thorne entered. She was clad in some filmy, gossamer-like morning gown with her radiant hair caught up on her white neck. At sight of Mr. Grimm the blue-gray eyes opened as if in surprise, and she paused irresolutely.

“I beg your pardon, Senor,” she said, addressing the diplomatist. “I did not know you were engaged. And Mr. Grimm!” She extended a slim, white hand, and the young man bowed low over it. “We are old friends,” she explained, smilingly, to the minister. Then: “I think I must have dropped my handkerchief when I was in here yesterday with Inez. Perhaps you found it?”

“
Si, Senorita
,” replied Senor Rodriguez gallantly. “It is on my desk in here. Just a moment.”

He opened the door and passed into the adjoining room. Mr. Grimm’s eyes met those of Miss Isabel Thorne, and there was no listlessness in them now, only interest. She smiled at him tauntingly and lowered her lids. Senor Rodriguez appeared from the other room with the handkerchief.

“
Mil gracias, Senor
,” she thanked him.

“
No hay de que, Senorita
,” he returned, as he opened the door for her.

“
Monsieur Grimm, au revoir
!” She dropped a little curtsey, and still smiling, went out.

“She is charming, Senor,” the diplomatist assured him enthusiastically, albeit irrelevantly. “Such vivacity, such personality, such—such—she is charming.”

“The safe, please,” Mr. Grimm reminded him.

Together they entered the adjoining room, which was small compared to the one they had just left. Senor Rodriguez used it as a private office. His desk was on their right between two windows overlooking the same pleasant little garden which was visible from the suite of tiny drawing-rooms farther along. The safe, a formidable looking receptacle of black enameled steel, stood at their left, closed and locked. The remaining wall space of the room was given over to oak cabinets, evidently a storage place for the less important legation papers.

“Has any one besides yourself been in this room to-day?” Mr. Grimm inquired.

“Not a soul, Senor,” was the reply.

Mr. Grimm went over and examined the windows. They were both locked inside; and there were no marks of any sort on the sills.

“They are just as I left them last night,” explained Senor Rodriguez. “I have not touched them to-day.”

“And there’s only one door,” mused Mr. Grimm, meaning that by which they had entered. “So it would appear that whoever was here last night entered through that room. Very well.”

He walked around the room once, opening and shutting the doors of the cabinets as he passed, and finally paused in front of the safe. A brief examination of the nickeled dial and handle and of the enameled edges of the heavy door satisfied him that no force had been employed—the safe had merely been unlocked. Whereupon he sat himself down, cross-legged on the floor, in front of it.

“What are the first and second figures of the combination?” he asked.

“Thirty-six, then back to ten.”

Mr. Grimm set the dial at thirty-six, and then, with his ear pressed closely against the polished door, turned the dial slowly back. Senor Rodriguez stood looking on helplessly, but none the less intently. The pointer read ten, then nine, eight, seven, five. Mr. Grimm gazed at it thoughtfully, after which he did it all over again, placidly and without haste.

“Now, we’ll look inside, please,” he requested, rising.

Senor Rodriguez unlocked the safe the while Mr. Grimm respectfully turned his eyes away, then pulled the door wide open. The books had been piled one on top of another and thrust into various pigeonholes at the top. Mr. Grimm understood that this disorder was the result of making room at the bottom for the bulk of gold, and asked no questions. Instead, he sat down upon the floor again.

“The lock on this private compartment at the top is broken,” he remarked after a moment.

“
Si, Senor
,” the diplomatist agreed. “Evidently the robbers were not content with only fifty thousand dollars in gold—they imagined that something else of value was hidden there.”

“Was there?” asked Mr. Grimm naively. He didn’t look around.

“Nothing of monetary value,” the senor explained. “There were some important state papers in there—they are there yet—but no money.”

“None of the papers was stolen?”

“No, Senor. There were only nine packets—they are there yet.”

“Contents all right?”

“Yes. I personally looked them over.”

Mr. Grimm drew out the packets of papers, one by one. They were all unsealed save the last. When he reached for that, Senor Rodriguez made a quick, involuntary motion toward it with his hand.

“This one’s sealed,” commented Mr. Grimm. “It doesn’t happen that you opened it and sealed it again?”

Senor Rodriguez stood staring at him blankly for a moment, then some sudden apprehension was aroused, for a startled look came into his eyes, and again he reached for the packet.

“
Dios mio
!” he exclaimed, “let me see, Senor.”

“Going to open it?” asked Mr. Grimm.

“Yes, Senor. I had not thought of it before.”

Mr. Grimm rose and walked over to the window where the light was better. He scrutinized the sealed packet closely. There were three red splotches of wax upon it, each impressed with the legation seal; the envelope was without marks otherwise. He turned and twisted it aimlessly, and peered curiously at the various seals, after which he handed it to the frankly impatient diplomatist.

Senor Rodriguez opened it, with nervous, twitching fingers. Mr. Grimm had turned toward the safe again, but he heard the crackle of parchment as some document was drawn out of the envelope, and then came a deep sigh of relief. Having satisfied his sudden fears for the safety of the paper, whatever it was, the senor placed it in another envelope and sealed it again with elaborate care. Mr. Grimm dropped into the swivel chair at the desk.