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Diamond Cross Mystery

<h2 id="id01649" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XVII</h2> <h5 id="id01650">"A JOLLY GOOD FELLOW"</h5> "Well," remarked Colonel Ashley briskly to himself, "there are two or three things I've got to do, and do them right away. Which shall I tackle first? I wonder if it won't be best to have Kettridge come here and perform the autopsy on that watch," and he looked toward the closet where he had placed the one that had belonged to Singa Phut. "If I can look inside that, and see whether or not the mechanism is so obvious that Darcy must have stumbled on it when he started to repair it—if he did—then, well, that complicates matters. Yes, I think I must see Kettridge." Once more the colonel started toward his room telephone, intending to summon the jeweler, who was living over the store in Mrs. Darcy's rooms. The colonel paused at the instrument, recalling that, as he had been about to use it before there had come in a call for him—the call announcing the department-store keeper. But this time the instrument was mute, and the colonel had soon asked central for the telephone in the apartments now occupied by Mr. Kettridge. There was a period of waiting. "I am ringing Marcy 5426," announced the pleasant voice of the girl in the central office. "Thank you," responded the detective. Another period of waiting, and again the announcement of the girl, though the colonel had not manifested any impatience. "Very well," he responded. "There may be no one at home." It was evident, a little later, that at least no one intended to answer the telephone, and the colonel hung up he receiver. "Well, Kettridge can wait," he murmured, as he carefully put away the watch, thinking, with a sigh of regret, of poor little Chet. The dog was a friendly animal and had made many friends in the hotel. "And so Miss Ratchford—to use her maiden name—has the diamond cross back again," mused the colonel. "But how in the world could she get it, when Spotty had it, and the police that are holding him have that, and he's resisting extradition? Say, I wish I could go fishing!" and the colonel shook his head in dogged impatience at the tangle into which the affair had snarled itself. "Spotty must have robbed the jewelry store in spite of what he says about it," mused the Colonel. "But if he did, and got the cross, even if he didn't kill Mrs. Darcy, how in the world could he get the cross back to her when the police took it away from him and when the last I saw of it it was in the police headquarters safe? "This certainly gets me! Oh Shag! is that you?" called the colonel as he heard some one moving out in the hall near his door. "Yes, sah, Colonel!" "You stay here until I come back. I'm going out, and I don't know what time I'll be in. Be careful to get straight any messages that come in over the wire, and if Jack Young calls up get the 'phone number of the place where he is so I can call him." "Yes, sah, Colonel." "And, Shag!" "Yes, sah, Colonel!" "Hand me that little green book. I may have to be up all night, and I want something to read that will keep me awake," and the colonel slipped into his coat pocket the green volume. He was taking his fishing by a sort of "correspondence school method" it will be observed. The detective busied himself about his apartment getting ready to go out, and from a suitcase which was closed with a complicated lock he took a number of articles which he stowed away in various pockets of his garments. "Is yo' gwine be out all night, Colonel?" asked Shag. "I can't say. I'm going to do a bit of shadow work and it may take me until sunrise. But you stay right here." "Yes, sah, Colonel. I will." "And now we'll see, Mr. Aaron Grafton," said the detective to himself, as he prepared to leave, "whether you're telling the truth or not. I think my one best bet is to follow you when you go to see Miss Cynthia!" But before the colonel could leave the room there sounded the insistent ringing of his telephone bell. "I wonder if that can be Kettridge," he mused. "And yet he wouldn't know that I had called him. Answer it, Shag," he directed. "It may be some one I don't care to talk to now. Don't say I'm here until you find out who it is." "Yes, sah, Colonel!" The colored servant unhooked the receiver and listened a moment. Then, carefully covering the mouthpiece with his hand, he announced: "It's Mr. Young, Colonel!" "Is it! Good! Hold him! I'll talk with him!" Quickly crossing the room the detective spoke rapidly into the instrument. "Hello, Jack! This is the colonel. Yes—what is it? He is? That's unusual—for him. Guess he's going down and out by the wrong route! Yes, I'll come right away! You follow King and I'll take the trail after Larch. So he's boasting that— Well, all sorts of things may happen now. Yes, I'm on my way now. You follow King!" The detective remained motionless for a few seconds after he had slipped the receiver into its hook. Then he said to Shag: "Do you know where I ought to be now?" The colored man paused a moment before replying. Then he played a safety shot by answering: "No, sah, Colonel, I jest doesn't—zactly." "Well, I ought to be getting ready to go fishing. I'm sick of this whole business. I'm going to quit! I never ought to have gone into it. I'm too old. I told 'em that, but they wouldn't believe me." "Too old to go fishin', sah, Colonel? No sah! You'll never be dat! Never!" "Oh, I don't mean fishing, Shag! I mean I never ought to have been mixed up with this affair—this detective business. I'm going to quit now, Shag!" "Yes, sah, Colonel!" "Get me Kedge on the long distance." "Mr. Kedge, in N' York, sah?" "Yes. I'm going to turn this over to him. It's getting on my nerves. I want to go fishing. I'll let him work out the rest of the problems. Get Kedge on the wire." "Yes, sah, Colonel." The colored man went to the instrument, but before he had engaged the attention of central his master called: "Oh, Shag!" "Yes, sah, Colonel." "Wait a minute. I suppose Kedge is very busy now?" "Well, yes, sah, I s'pects so. He had dat ar' animal case." "Oh, you mean Mr. Campbell's?" "Yes, sah! Dat's it. I knowed it was a camel or a elephant." "Yes, I suppose he's busy on that. So don't bother him. Anyhow, it would take him as long to get here, pick up the loose ends, and start out right, as it would take me to finish." "Mo' so, Colonel," voiced Shag. "A whole lot mo'." "Oh, well, hang it all! That's the way it is. I never can get a little vacation. But now I'm in this game I suppose I might as well stick! Never mind that call, Shag! I'll finish this." "Yes, sah, Colonel." A fact which the wise Shag had known all along. "For it's always good weather, When good fellows get together!" Over and over again the not unmusical strains welled out from one of the private rooms, opening off the grill of the Homestead. At times Larch stopped at the entrance, smiling good-naturedly, but with rather a cynical look on his clean-chiseled but cruel face. More than once his eyes sought those of Harry King, and the latter nodded and smiled. He was spending money freely, but was keeping himself well in hand, though a waiter was at his side more often than at the side of any of the others. "How long has this been going on, Jack?" asked the colonel, who reached the hotel soon after his talk with Shag. "All the afternoon, I guess, and it looks as if it would be all night." "So it does! I wish I'd never gotten into this mess, but I can't get out now. Kedge would be sure to spoil it after I've started things moving. What especially did you want to tell me?" "Well, King is in there, in his usual state—dignified, of course, but how long he'll stay that way I can't tell. It's Larch that puzzles me." "Yes, it isn't usual for him to make such a congenial companion of himself with his customers. But he's very different since his wife separated from him. He doesn't hold himself so highly." "And it's telling on his business." "What do you mean?" "I mean that a number of his best friends are leaving him. The way it used to be was that the Homestead was patronized by a good class of people and organizations, some that even were opposed to the liquor trade. They knew they could have it or not have it as they pleased. But now Larch is catering more and more to parties that wouldn't come here if there wasn't something strong to drink, and that's driving the other sort away." "Yes, I've noticed that of late." "And that isn't all," went on Young. "Larch is going to come a cropper, if I'm any judge." "What do you mean?" Again the Colonel seemed puzzled. "I mean he's going to smash financially. He's been making some poor investments of late, as well as gambling heavily, and his money can't last forever. He had a lot, but most of it is gone." "I hadn't heard that." "Well, it's true. He was well off when he married. That's the reason he got such a pretty wife, I hear. Her folks were ambitious for her. Well, she did shine for a while, for the Homestead was not an ordinary hotel. It was more of a Colchester institution. But it's fast becoming something else now. "Larch is being pressed for cash, and that may be one reason why he's so thick with Harry King. King's got cash, if it can only be gotten at. I overheard Larch sounding him as to the chances of raising a big sum." "And what did King say?" "He agreed to try to get it for Larch. That's all I gathered then. But I heard them talking of something else." "What?" "Larch dropped a hint that he and his wife might be reconciled." "The deuce you say!" "That's right, Colonel. I heard him telling King about it. Larch is going to pay his wife a visit—going to call on her at her father's place in Pompey. And he's going to take her out a present. I believe that's the usual thing after a quarrel." "Possibly," admitted the colonel. "Oh, I wish I'd never mixed up in this! I'm sorry for young Darcy, and I believe— Oh, well, what's the use of talking now! I'm in it and I must see it through. So Larch is going to visit his wife?" "Yes. He's either sent her a present or is going to. I couldn't quite catch which." "What sort of present, Jack?" "A diamond cross." "What?" and the colonel had suddenly to modulate his voice or he would have attracted more attention that he cared to. "A diamond cross? Are you sure about that, Young?" "Sure! Why not? I don't see anything queer there. He might buy her a diamond cross as a sort of forgiveness gift. Same idea Harry King had you know, but a little higher class, that's all. "You know, Colonel, these things are about alike. The man on Water Street gets drunk and brings his wife home a quart of oysters as a peace offering. The man on the boulevard does the same thing and patches up the break with a pearl pendant. It's all the same, only different." "Yes, I suppose so. I didn't know you were a philosopher, Jack." "I'm not. It's just common sense." "But a diamond cross! And if Larch is losing money—" "Oh, well, he may have held out some, or maybe the diamond cross isn't so elaborate. You know they take a lot of little diamonds now, set 'em in a cluster and make 'em look as good as a solitaire. Anyhow Larch has been boasting to King that there's to be a diamond cross present. And there's another angle to it." "What's that, Jack?" "Well, there's been some talk between Larch and King about some big diamonds that have been sold of late. I couldn't catch whether King had sold them or Larch. Anyhow they brought quite a sum of money. Maybe they were stolen from the jewelry stock." "Not unless Mrs. Darcy had some of which James Darcy knew nothing." "Well, I saw Larch at one time, and Harry King at another, have one of those white tissue paper packages that jewelers keep diamonds in. I didn't get a glimpse at the stones themselves. I had to be a bit cautious you know, and, even now, I think they're suspicious of me here. If it wasn't that King drinks so much, though he manages to walk and talk straight. I believe he'd try to pump me. Anyhow, I thought I'd better let you know what I'd heard." "Jack, I'm glad you did. So Larch has sent, or is going to send, his wife a diamond cross! Well, then, Grafton might be right about that after all. Gad! this thing is getting mixed up! Now, Jack—" A waiter who knew the colonel, from the fact that the latter was a striking figure and had been in the Homestead more than once, approached the private room occupied by the detective and Jack Young and announced: "Excuse me, Colonel, but you are wanted at the telephone." "All right. Where is it?" "You can come right in here and have the call transferred from our central," and the man opened the door of a small booth. The Homestead was honeycombed with private rooms, booths and telephones. "Yes, this is Colonel Ashley," announced the detective into the instrument, when his identity had been questioned. "Who are you? Oh, Shag! Yes, Shag, what is it? What's that—at the jewelry store you say? Well, will this never end? Yes, I'll go there at once!" "What is it?" asked Jack, as the colonel hung up the receiver. "Why, Kettridge telephoned to my room, and Shag took the message and repeated it to me. Sallie Page, the old servant of Mrs. Darcy has just been killed by an electric shock in the jewelry store!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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