The Ivory Snuff Box Part 8

Dufrenne turned. "The snuff box?" he whispered excitedly.

The detective nodded, and cautiously drew the circular package from his pocket. "It was in his satchel," he remarked, as he began to remove the string.

Dufrenne's lips moved. He seemed to be offering up a silent prayer of thanks. He was scarcely able to contain his impatience as the detective slowly unwrapped the parcel, disclosing a small blue pasteboard box, on the cover of which, in black, appeared the words, "Poudre Perrier." In a moment Duvall had removed the lid, and plunged his finger into the box.

As he did so, he uttered an exclamation of utter astonishment and disgust. The box contained nothing but rice powder.

CHAPTER IX

It would be difficult to describe the feelings of annoyance and chagrin which swept over Richard Duvall as he tossed the box of Monsieur Perrier's rice powder over the side of the vessel and watched it float for a moment on the crest of a wave before being swept into the darkness. He glanced for an instant at his companion, then turned away as he saw the latter's stare of astonishment and dismay. He wanted to be alone, to think out this matter for himself.

With a confusion of ideas racing through his brain he began to pace the deck, trying to discover wherein his reasoning had been at fault. He went back to the gruesome scene at the house of the Amba.s.sador--the murdered valet, with the grim seal of silence upon his lips. Whoever had committed this murder had made away with the snuff box, of that he felt certain. Upon what, then, did his suspicions of Seltz rest? The evidence was slender--merely that the latter had had an appointment to meet the murdered man that afternoon, and that a person answering Seltz's description had inquired for the latter at the servants' entrance at Monsieur de Grissac's that evening. Not very convincing, surely, yet taken with Seltz's evident intention to leave London for Brussels that night, certainly significant. Following then his original hypothesis, that Seltz was the guilty man, and had the box in his possession, two solutions of the matter only seemed possible. The first was, the man in the saloon below, antic.i.p.ating perhaps some attempt to search his baggage, had deliberately provided himself, through Seltz, with a second package, containing a box of rice powder only, which he had placed in his satchel, in the belief that, if found, its innocent contents would divert from him further suspicion. The careless way in which he had thrown his satchel on the floor beside him, favored this theory. It seemed, on sober thought, extremely unlikely that the bearer of so valuable a piece of property would be so thoughtless as to place it loosely in an unlocked handbag. Even now the real package might be reposing safely in some secure inner pocket.

The other solution was equally probable. The purchase of the face powder might have been quite innocent and _bona fide_. The man below might know nothing whatever about the snuff box, and Seltz might even now be on his way to Brussels to dispose of it, in accordance with his original intentions. If so, however, why had he informed Monsieur Perrier that he had changed his mind, and would not take the vacation he had requested?

Was this merely a blind, to avert suspicion, in case the unexpected murder of the man Noel resulted in inquiries being made of Monsieur Perrier? Of course, when Seltz had spoken of his intention to go to Brussels, no thought of murder was in his mind--he had no vital object in hiding his movements--not having any reason to suppose that suspicion could possibly be attracted to him. After the sending of the note to him by Noel, he must have realized the danger of his position, and told Monsieur Perrier that his plans had changed, while in reality fully intending to carry them out as he had originally intended.

There was, of course, a possible third solution, namely, that Seltz had nothing to do with the murder at all, and was merely an innocent barber, quite unaware of all the mystery that was being woven about himself and his movements. In that event, as Duvall realized with the deepest chagrin, he would be obliged to return to London, and begin his investigations all over again. In this event, there could be but one starting point--the murder of the valet. Yet his painstaking examination of the scene of the murder had shown an utter absence of any clues. Even the weapon which had caused the valet's death was his own property--the finger print on the seal which closed his lips made with his own forefinger. And here the detective began to feel a deep sense of doubt as to the accuracy of his conclusions regarding Seltz's guilt. Would a man of his type have taken the trouble to place the gruesome seal upon the dead man's lips? This seemed, on second thoughts, the act of a hardened and unfeeling criminal--a man to whom murder was a scientific accomplishment, not a hasty and hideous crime. Was Seltz such a man?

There was no answer to this question--the fleeting glimpses which Duvall had secured of his face, through the barber-shop window, had told him little or nothing of the man's character.

One fact, however, presently forced itself upon the detective's mind. If Seltz had left the shop for Brussels that night, according to his original intention, he must be somewhere on the boat. No night route from London to Belgium existed, except that by way of Harwich. He blamed himself that in his eagerness to discover the stranger with the satchel he had not thought to look for Seltz.

Upon the conclusion of his deliberations, Duvall crossed over to the other side of the boat, where he had left Dufrenne. The little old Frenchman stood gazing down at the sea, his face blue with cold, and filled with a look of bitter disappointment. He did not even glance up, as Duvall joined him.

"Come, Monsieur Dufrenne," the detective said, kindly. "Let us go below."

The old man accompanied him without a word. As they reached the companionway, however, he spoke. "We must return to London at once," he said. "This same boat will take us back to Harwich."

"Yes," Duvall agreed, "unless we discover that Seltz is aboard."

"Seltz?" The Frenchman looked up, puzzled, yet with an expression of renewed hope in his eyes.

"Yes. We have apparently followed the wrong man. In that case, why not search for the right one. If Seltz is on board, we will follow him to Brussels. If not, we will return to London. We can make sure, when the pa.s.sengers are discharged at Antwerp."

Dufrenne nodded eagerly. "It may indeed be possible," he remarked, as they entered the saloon.

Most of the pa.s.sengers were on deck when the steamer reached her wharf at Antwerp, but in spite of a careful search, Duvall was unable to locate Seltz amongst them. He stood by the gang plank, watching the crowd as it left the boat, his eyes searching restlessly for the swarthy countenance of the barber. He had almost given up hope, when he saw a belated pa.s.senger hurriedly cross the deck and dart up the gang plank.

He moved rapidly, his throat m.u.f.fled in a blue neckcloth, his slouch hat pulled down over his eyes, but the glance which Duvall obtained of his somewhat scared face told him at once that he had located his man.

He signaled quietly to Dufrenne, who had been standing discreetly in the background for fear the barber might recognize him, and the two left the boat together, some forty or more yards in Seltz's rear.

They did not make any attempt to follow him closely. There seemed no room for doubt that he was bound for the train to Brussels, and Duvall and his companion followed along at a leisurely pace, showing nothing of the agitation they so keenly felt.

They purposely avoided any attempt to enter the same compartment with the barber, being satisfied when they saw him climb aboard the train.

They did, however, watch the departing pa.s.sengers at all stops, and when they rolled into the station at Brussels, they were certain that their man was aboard. Nor were they mistaken. They saw him alight, look swiftly about as though fearing that he was being followed, and then start at a rapid pace toward the street.

Duvall went after him at once, directing Dufrenne to go to the Hotel Metropole and secure a room in his own name, where he was to wait until he heard from his companion. These instructions given, the detective began to follow Seltz up the street.

The man evidently knew the town well. He made no pauses, and did not hesitate at any time during his long walk. It terminated at a small, third-cla.s.s hotel in the older part of the city, where he went in, entered the cafe, and selecting a table in a dim corner, ordered breakfast.

Duvall, feeling safe in leaving him, at once sought a telephone and proceeded to call up Dufrenne at the Hotel Metropole.

The latter, meanwhile, had turned from the railway station, and was proceeding up the street at a leisurely pace, when a young man approached him from behind, and touched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Monsieur Dufrenne?" he inquired, smiling.

The curio dealer glanced at the man who had accosted him, and an answering smile lit up his face. "Oh, Lablanche, glad to see you," he said. "I did not know you were on this case."

"Monsieur Lefevre sent me from Paris last night. We are expecting news at any moment. Monsieur Duvall is with you, I observe."

"Yes. He is following the man from London. He will telephone me, as soon as he learns his destination."

The man whom Dufrenne had addressed as Lablanche, looked grave. "This affair has, we believe, been engineered by a physician here--Dr.

Hartmann--you have heard of him, of course."

Dufrenne turned to his companion. "Hartmann--the man of the stolen war plans. _Mon Dieu!_ Why did I not think of him before?" He seemed deeply chagrined. "Of course--of course--that explains everything."

"Where is Monsieur Duvall to communicate with you?" Dufrenne's companion asked. His voice held a note of brisk authority.

"At the Hotel Metropole. I shall take a room there at once."

"Good. I must leave you for a short time. Await news from me at the hotel. I shall, I hope, be able to inform you, within half an hour, whether our suspicions regarding Dr. Hartmann are correct or not. If they are, you will of course advise Monsieur Duvall accordingly. Above all things, the delivery of the snuff box to Hartmann must be prevented.

On that point the Prefect was emphatic." The young man turned into a cross street as he concluded and was swallowed up in the crowd.

Dufrenne, after securing his room at the Hotel Metropole, sat down to wait. He did not have to wait long. The young man, Lablanche, joined him in a short time. "We have just learned," he said, gravely, "that our suspicions are entirely correct. Dr. Hartmann is responsible for the theft of the snuff box, and is momentarily expecting the man who is to deliver it to him."

Dufrenne looked grave. "Duvall should know this without delay," he said.

He had no more than spoken, when the telephone bell in his room rang. He hastened to reply and found Duvall at the other end of the wire. "Come to the Hotel Universelle," the latter said, laconically. "Hurry. I will wait for you."

Dufrenne communicated the message to Lablanche. The latter nodded.

"Good!" he said. "Give Monsieur Duvall the information you have, and above all, impress upon him the necessity of acting immediately. There is no time for delay. I will follow at once, with another of our men."

The curio dealer found Duvall pacing anxiously up and down the hotel corridor, pretending to be searching a railway time-table. He nodded imperceptibly toward the cafe as Dufrenne entered, then turned and went out into the street. The old man followed him--in a few moments they were conversing rapidly in the doorway of a near-by shop.

Dufrenne had but a few words to say, but they were sufficient to show Duvall the extreme gravity of the situation. He stood for several moments, considering the best way by which the delivery of the stolen snuff box to Dr. Hartmann might be prevented. Then he signaled a cab which he saw approaching. "Seltz is breakfasting--inside," he said quickly to Dufrenne. "Don't let him out of your sight. I am going to see Dr. Hartmann." He sprang into the cab, gave the doctor's name to the cabman, and in a moment was being driven rapidly up the street, leaving the little old Frenchman standing blinking with astonishment on the sidewalk.

CHAPTER X

When Richard Duvall left the Hotel Universelle, en route to the office of Dr. Hartmann, he had no definite idea of just what he intended to do on reaching there. One thought was uppermost in his mind--he must prevent, in some way, and at any cost, the delivery of the snuff box to Hartmann, and since to follow Seltz to the latter's office would avail him nothing, he decided to precede him there.

During the drive, he began to formulate a plan, daring in its conception, extremely dangerous in its execution, yet one which, if carried out with courage and determination, promised success. He was perfecting in his mind the details of this plan when the carriage turned into the driveway at Dr. Hartmann's.

So occupied had he become with his thoughts that he failed to observe the figure of Grace, standing behind the maid in the open doorway; she disappeared into the reception-room before he had alighted from the cab.