The Black Box Part 9

Quest nodded.

"Marvellous!" he murmured.

"You are making fun of me," she protested.

"Not I! But you see, my young friend, the point is this. Who in their senses would want to steal an anthropoid skeleton except a scientific man, and if a scientific man stole it out of sheer jealousy, why in thunder couldn't he be content with just mutilating it, which would have destroyed its value just as well--What's that?"

He stopped short. A newsboy thrust the paper at them. Quest glanced at the headlines. Lenora clutched at his arm. Together they read in great black type--

ESCAPE OF CONVICTED PRISONER!

MACDOUGAL, ON HIS WAY TO PRISON, GRAPPLES WITH SHERIFF AND JUMPS FROM TRAIN! STILL AT LARGE THOUGH SEARCHED FOR BY POSSE OF POLICE

2.

The windows of Mrs. Rheinholdt's town house were ablaze with light. A crimson drugget stretched down the steps to the curbstone. A long row of automobiles stood waiting. Through the wide-flung doors was visible a pleasant impression of flowers and light and luxury. In the nearer of the two large reception rooms Mrs. Rheinholdt herself, a woman dark, handsome, and in the prime of life, was standing receiving her guests. By her side was her son, whose twenty-first birthday was being celebrated.

"I wonder whether that professor of yours will come," she remarked, as the stream of incoming guests slackened for a moment. "I'd love to have him here, if it were only for a moment. Every one's talking about him and his work in South America."

"He hates receptions," the boy replied, "but he promised he'd come. I never thought, when he used to drill science into us at the lectures, that he was going to be such a tremendous big pot."

Mrs. Rheinholdt's plump fingers toyed for a moment complacently with the diamonds which hung from her neck.

"You can never tell, in a world like this," she murmured. "That's why I make a point of being civil to everybody. Your laundry woman may become a multimillionaire, or your singing master a Caruso, and then, just while their month's on, every one is crazy to meet them. It's the Professor's month just now."

"Here he is, mother!" the young man exclaimed suddenly. "Good old boy! I thought he'd keep his word."

Mrs. Rheinholdt a.s.sumed her most encouraging and condescending smile as she held out both hands to the Professor. He came towards her, stooping a little more than usual. His mouth had drooped a little and there were signs of fatigue in his face. Nevertheless, his answering smile was as delightful as ever.

"This is perfectly sweet of you, Professor," Mrs. Rheinholdt declared. "We scarcely ventured to hope that you would break through your rule, but Philip was so looking forward to have you come. You were his favourite master at lectures, you know, and now--well, of course, you have the scientific world at your feet. Later on in the evening, Professor," she added, watching some very important newcomers, "you will tell me all about your anthropoid ape, won't you? Philip, look after Mr. Ashleigh. Don't let him go far away."

Mrs. Rheinholdt breathed a sigh of relief as she greeted her new arrivals.

"Professor Ashleigh, brother of Lord Ashleigh, you know," she explained.

"This is the first house he has been to since his return from South America. You've heard all about those wonderful discoveries, of course...."

The Professor made himself universally agreeable in a mild way, and his presence created even more than the sensation which Mrs. Rheinholdt had hoped for. In her desire to show him ample honour, she seldom left his side.

"I am going to take you into my husband's study," she suggested, later on in the evening. "He has some specimens of beetles--"

"Beetles," the Professor declared, with some excitement, "occupied precisely two months of my time while abroad. By all means, Mrs.

Rheinholdt!"

"We shall have to go quite to the back of the house," she explained, as she led him along the darkened pa.s.sage.

The Professor smiled acquiescently. His eyes rested for a moment upon her necklace.

"You must really permit me, Mrs. Rheinholdt," he exclaimed, "to admire your wonderful stones! I am a judge of diamonds, and those three or four in the centre are, I should imagine, unique."

She held them out to him. The Professor laid the end of the necklace gently in the palm of his hand and examined them through a horn-rimmed eyegla.s.s.

"They are wonderful," he murmured,--"wonderful! Why--"

He turned away a little abruptly. They had reached the back of the house and a door from the outside had just been opened. A man had crossed the threshold with a coat over his arm, and was standing now looking at them.

"How extraordinary!" the Professor remarked. "Is that you, Craig?"

For a moment there was no answer. The servant was standing in the gloom of an unlit portion of the pa.s.sage. His eyes were fixed curiously upon the diamonds which the Professor had just been examining. He seemed paler, even, than usual.

"Yes, sir!" he replied. "There is a rain storm, so I ventured to bring your mackintosh."

"Very thoughtful," the Professor murmured approvingly. "I have a weakness," he went on, turning to his hostess, "for always walking home after an evening like this. In the daytime I am content to ride. At night I have the fancy always to walk."

"We don't walk half enough." Mrs. Rheinholdt sighed, glancing down at her somewhat portly figure. "Dixon," she added, turning to the footman who had admitted Craig, "take Professor Ashleigh's servant into the kitchen and see that he has something before he leaves for home. Now, Professor, if you will come this way."

They reached a little room in the far corner of the house. Mrs. Rheinholdt apologised as she switched on the electric lights.

"It is a queer little place to bring you to," she said, "but my husband used to spend many hours here, and he would never allow anything to be moved. You see, the specimens are in these cases."

The Professor nodded. His general att.i.tude towards the forthcoming exhibition was merely one of politeness. As the first case was opened, however, his manner completely changed. Without taking the slightest further notice of his hostess, he adjusted a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles and commenced to mumble eagerly to himself. Mrs. Rheinholdt, who did not understand a word, strolled around the apartment, yawned, and finally interrupted a little stream of eulogies, not a word of which she understood, concerning a green beetle with yellow spots.

"I am so glad you are interested, Professor," she said. "If you don't mind, I will rejoin my guests. You will find a shorter way back if you keep along the pa.s.sage straight ahead and come through the conservatory."

"Certainly! With pleasure!" the Professor agreed, without glancing up.

His hostess sighed as she turned to leave the room. She left the door ajar. The Professor's face was almost touching the gla.s.s case in which reposed the green beetle with yellow spots.

Mrs. Rheinholdt's reception, notwithstanding the temporary absence of its presiding spirit, was without doubt an unqualified success. In one of the distant rooms the younger people were dancing. There were bridge tables, all of which were occupied, and for those who preferred the more old-fas.h.i.+oned pastime of conversation amongst luxurious surroundings, there was still ample s.p.a.ce and opportunity. Philip Rheinholdt, with a pretty young debutante upon his arm, came out from the dancing room and looked around amongst the little knots of people.

"I wonder where mother is," he remarked.

"Looking after some guests somewhere, for certain," the girl replied.

"Your mother is so wonderful at entertaining, Philip."

"It's the hobby of her life," he declared. "Never so happy as when she can get hold of somebody every one's talking about, and show him off. Can't think what she's done with herself now, though. She told me--"

The young man broke off in the middle of his sentence. He, too, like many others in the room, felt a sudden thrill almost of horror at the sound which rang without warning upon their ears--a woman's cry, a cry of fear and horror, repeated again and again. There was a little rush towards the curtained s.p.a.ce which led into the conservatories. Before even, however, the quickest could reach the spot, the curtains were thrown back and Mrs.

Rheinholdt, her hands clasping her neck, her splendid composure a thing of the past, a panic-stricken, terrified woman, stumbled into the room. She seemed on the point of collapse. Somehow or other, they got her into an easy-chair.

"My jewels!" she cried. "My diamonds!"

"What do you mean, mother?" Philip Rheinholdt asked quickly. "Have you lost them?"

"Stolen!" Mrs. Rheinholdt shrieked. "Stolen there in the conservatory!"

They gazed at her open-mouthed, incredulous. Then a still, quiet voice from the outside of the little circle intervened.