Works of Sax Rohmer

by Sax Rohmer

  “I’m disposed to agree with you, sir,” replied Grimsby. “But at the same time I’ll stake my reputation that the diamond isn’t inside these four walls! Although my search of you gentlemen was a mere formality, I assure you it was thorough. I’ve searched a few score Kaffirs and I know my business. As to the room itself, it’s as bare as a drawing-board. A child could find the smallest bead in it inside twenty seconds. You can take it from me as a stone certainty that the diamond has gone!”

  “Then we are wasting precious time!” cried Sir Michael. “Commence the pursuit at once, Inspector!”

  Grimsby’s jaw shot out doggedly.

  “If you could give me a hint where to begin, sir,” he said. “I shouldn’t waste another second!”

  “Hang it all, that’s your business, my man!”

  “I know it is, sir. But I’m only a poor human policeman, after all. We shan’t gain anything by getting angry, shall we? This room, to all intents and purposes, is a locked box from which something has been extracted without lifting the lid. That’s a conjuring trick, and as puzzling to me as it is to you.”

  Sir Michael softened. Inspector Grimsby is not a man who can be browbeaten.

  “Quite right, Inspector,” he said; “I recognise the difficulties. But this loss is horrible. It reflects upon all of us — all of us. If the news of this theft leaks out — if the stone cannot be recovered — a certain stigma — I cannot blind myself to the fact — a certain stigma will attach to our commercial integrity. Clean as our records may be, we cannot hope to escape it. For God’s sake, Inspector, set your wits to work.”

  Indeed, those were anxious faces that surrounded the detective. Suddenly —

  “Ah!” cried the Lord Mayor, “the man Klaw! On his own showing he knows something of this matter! Mr. Grimsby—”

  Grimsby held up his hand and nodded.

  “With your permission, gentlemen,” he said, “I will try to get into communication with Moris Klaw at once.”

  “Good,” said Mr. Anderson; “and meanwhile, whilst we await the result of your efforts, Inspector, I suggest, in the interests of all, that we lunch in my office. It may be inconvenient for many of you, but for my own part I am anxious to remain on these premises until we have news of the whereabouts of the diamond.”

  The proposal was carried unanimously. No one of those substantial men of affairs was anxious to lay himself open to the suspicion of having removed the great Blue Rajah from the office! For, as Sir Michael quite justly had pointed out, where a diamond worth an emperor’s ransom is concerned, reputations melt like ice beneath a tropical sun.

  In this way, then, I found myself concerned in the case; for Grimsby hastened to call me up, begging me to urge the retiring Moris Klaw to quit his Wapping haunt, to which he clung like Diogenes to his wooden cavern, and to journey to Moorgate Street. Fortunately I was in my rooms, and, willing enough to enjoy an opportunity of studying Klaw at work, I despatched a district messenger to him, trusting that he would be at his shop.

  Since evidently he had apprehended that an attempt would be made this morning, I did not doubt that he would be at home. Indeed, he rang me up less than half-an-hour later and arranged to meet me at Mr. Anderson’s office.

  “I warned him — that Lord Mayor,” came his rumbling continental tones along the wire, “how he must not let it out of his sight. He ignored me. So! Ring him up immediately, and tell him to have ready for me hot black coffee. It stimulates the inner perception, when green tea is not obtainable.”

  Without delay I followed Moris Klaw’s instructions, and then hurried out and into a cab. My duties, as Klaw’s biographer — self-appointed — forbade my delaying.

  We arrived at Basinghall House simultaneously. Our cabs drew up one behind the other. Except for the presence of Inspector Grimsby at the entrance, there was nothing to show that a stupendous robbery had been committed there less than an hour before. As I descended, Grimsby ran and opened the door of the other cab. He offered his hand to the beautiful girl who was within, according her all the nervous deference due to a queen.

  And indeed no queen of ancient times could have looked more queenly than Isis Klaw — no Hatshepsu could have carried herself more regally. She wore a dark, close-fitting costume and ermine furs. In contrast to the snowy peltry, her large, black eyes and perfect red lips rendered her a study for the brush of a painter, but, like her Oriental grace, defied the pen of the scribe.

  Moris Klaw’s daughter, her dazzling beauty enhanced by all the feminine arts of Paris, was a rare exotic one would not have sought in the neighbourhood of Wapping Old Stairs. But her father afforded a contrast at least as singular as her residence.

  Behind this seductive vision he appeared, enveloped in his caped coat, his yellow bearded face crowned by the brown bowler of Early Victorian pattern — indeed apparently of Early Victorian manufacture. He peered at the taximeter through his gold-rimmed pince-nez.

  “Two and tenpence,” he rumbled, hoarsely. “That meter requires inspection, my friend. I have watched it popping up those two pennies, and I have perceived that it does so every time the cab bumps upon a drainhole. I am to pay, then, for all the drains between Wapping and Moorgate Street. Here it is — three shillings. One and fourpence for the company and one and eightpence for yourself.”

  He turned aside, raising his hat.

  “Good-morning, Mr. Searles! Good-morning, Mr. Grimsby! I shall charge the City of London one and sixpence for drains. Let us walk on as far as the courtyard I see yonder, and you shall tell me all the facts before I interview those others, who will be, of course, so prejudiced by their misfortune.”

  We passed on, and many a clerkly glance followed the furry figure of Isis beneath the archway. Hemmed in by offices, a certain quietude prevailed in the court yard.

  “It is a chilly morning,” said Moris Klaw; “but here we will stop and talk.”

  Accordingly Grimsby related the known facts of the case, more often addressing his story to the girl than to her father.

  “Yes, yes,” growled the latter, when the tale was told; “and this crying out — this screaming of murder — what occasioned it?”

  “That’s the mystery!” explained the detective. “I wish I had run out at once. I might have learned something. As it is, all I can find out amounts to nothing. The clerks and porters and other people who came flocking to the scene found no one here who knew anything about it!”

  “The screamer was missing, eh?”

  “Vanished! I can’t help thinking it was a ruse; though what anybody profited by it isn’t clear.”

  “It is not clear, you say?” rumbled Moris Klaw. “Ah! you have a fog of the mentality, my friend!”

  Grimsby flushed.

  “Of course,” he added, hurriedly, “I can see that it served to divert the attention of the people who ought to have been guarding the diamond. But as both the doors and the window were locked, how did it help to get the stone out of the office?”

  Moris Klaw pulled reflectively at his scanty beard.

  “We shall see,” he rumbled. “Let us ascend.”

  We entered the lift and went up to the office of Messrs. Anderson and Brothers. The Presentation Committee were awaiting the mysterious Moris Klaw, but had not anticipated a visit from a pretty woman. They were prepared to adopt towards the man who would seem to have had some foreknowledge of the robbery a certain attitude of suspicion. It was amusing to note the change of front when Isis entered. Moris Klaw singled out the Lord Mayor, and the owner of the office, with unerring instinct. He removed his hat.

  “Good-morning, Mr. Anderson!” he said. “Good-morning, Sir Michael! Good-morning, gentlemen!”

  “This is Mr. Moris Klaw,” explained Grimsby, “and Miss Klaw. Mr. Searles.”

  Mr. Anderson hastened to place chairs. We became seated. Following a short interval, Sir Michael Cayley cleared his throat. “We are — er — indebted to you, Mr. Klaw,” he began, “for taking this trouble. But, in view of yo
ur note to me—”

  Moris Klaw raised his hand.

  “So simple,” he said, whilst the Committee watched him, puzzled and surprised — that is, those who were not watching Isis, did so. “I have a library, you understand, of records dealing with such historic gems. To show you that I have made some study of these matters I will tell you that the diamond called the Blue Rajah was discovered on the morning of April the thirteenth, 1680, in the Kollur Mine, and stolen the same evening!”

  “What is your authority for the exact date, Mr. Klaw?” asked Anderson, with interest; “and for the statement that the diamond was stolen on the day of its discovery?”

  “Fact, Mr. Anderson, is my authority,” was the rumbling reply, “and I can tell you more. The diamond is the birth-stone of the month of April, and this diamond was itself born on the thirteenth of that month. To illustrate how its history is associated with April, I shall only tell you of the beautiful and unhappy Marie de Lamballe. This great diamond was presented to her on the ninth of April, 1790, and taken from her on the twelfth of April, 1792, after her return from England, and only six months before her fair head was stuck upon a pike and held up to the Queen’s window!” He paused impressively, waving his long hands in the air.

  “I could recount to you,” he resumed, “many such incidents in the history of the Blue Rajah — and all took place within a week of its birthday! What day is to-day?”

  “Why, it’s the thirteenth of April!” said Sir Michael Cayley, with a start.

  “The thirteenth of April,” rumbled Moris Klaw. “For many years the diamond has been too closely guarded for any new incident to occur, but when I learn how to-day it is to be brought here, how many hands will touch it, how many eyes will look upon it, I know that there is danger! Its history repeats. These incidents—” again he waved his hands— “proceed in cycles. I warned you. But it was perhaps inevitable. The Cycle of Crime is as inevitable and immutable as the cycle of the ages. Man’s will has no power to check it.”

  Every one in the room was deeply impressed. Indeed, no one could have failed to recognise in the speaker a man of powerful mind, one of penetrating and unusual intellect.

  “Had I had the good fortune to have met you, Mr. Klaw,” said the Lord Mayor, “I should have attached a greater, and — er — a different, significance to your note. Your theories are strange ones, but to-day they have received strange and ample substantiation. I can only hope — and I do so with every confidence in your great ability” (Moris Klaw rose and bowed), “that you will be able to recover the diamond whose loss you so truly predicted.”

  “I will ask you,” replied Moris Klaw, “to have sent into me the black coffee. Myself, my daughter, Mr. Searles, and Mr. Grimsby will view the room from which the robbery took place.”

  “You would wish us to remain here?” asked Mr. Anderson, glancing at the others.

  “I would so wish it, yes.”

  “I hope, Mr. Klaw,” said Sir Michael Cayley, “that you will not hesitate to send me an account of your fee and expenditures.”

  “I shall not so hesitate,” replied Moris Klaw.

  IV

  We entered the small room from which the Blue Rajah had been spirited away. Grimsby, who was badly puzzled, was evidently glad of Klaw’s cooperation. Moris Klaw’s letter of warning, leading to the request for Moris Klaw’s attendance, had enabled the Scotland Yard man to summon that keen intellect to his aid without compromising his professional reputation. He would lose no credit that might accrue if the gem were recovered, and in short was congratulating himself upon a diplomatic move.

  “It’s beyond me,” he said, “how the thing was got out of the room. With this door shut, the window fastened, and the other door double-locked, as it always is, practically the place is a box.” Moris Klaw, from its hiding-place in the lining of his hat, took out the scent-spray and squirted verbena upon his face.

  “A box — yes,” he rumbled; “and so stuffy. No air.”

  “There’s no ventilation,” explained Grimsby. “That square hole over the door is intended for ventilation, but as there’s no corresponding aperture over the window or elsewhere it’s useless. Anyway, it only opens on the passage.”

  “Ah. You searched them all quite thoroughly?”

  “Certainly; like Kaffirs. But I didn’t expect to find it.”

  “Blessed is he who expecteth little. Isis, my child, there is some one knocking.”

  Isis opened the door communicating with Mr. Anderson’s office and a boy entered carrying a tray, with a coffee pot and cup upon it.

  “Good,” said Moris Klaw. “I shall not sleep in this room, Mr. Searles. It is difficult to sleep in the morning and I cannot wait for night. I shall sit here at this table for one hour with my mind a perfect blank. I shall think of nothing. That is a great art, Mr. Searles — to think of nothing. Few people but ascetics can do it. Try it for yourself, and you will find that thinking of trying not to think is the nearest you will get to it! I shall expose my mind, a sensitive blank, to the etheric waves created here by mental emotion.

  “I shall secure many alien impressions of horror at finding the Blue Rajah to be missing. That is unavoidable. But I hope, amongst all these, to find that other thought-thing — the fear of the robber at the critical moment of his crime! That should be a cogent and forceful thought — keener and therefore stronger to survive, because a thought of danger, but of gain, than the thoughts of loss with which this atmosphere is laden.”

  He stood up, removing his caped coat and revealing the shabby tweed suit which he wore. A big French knot, of black silk, looked grotesquely out of place beneath his yellow face with its edging of toneless beard.

  “Isis,” he said, “lay my cloak carefully upon that chair by the window. I will sit there.”

  Grimsby stepped forward to assist.

  “No, no!” said Isis, but smiled enchantingly. “No hand but mine must touch it until my father has secured his impression!”

  She laid the coat upon the chair, completely covering it; and Moris Klaw sat down.

  “Another cup of coffee,” he said; and his daughter poured one out and handed it to him. “This is Java coffee and truly not coffee at all. There is no coffee but Mocha — a thing you English will never learn. Return in an hour, gentlemen. Isis, ask that no disturbing sound is allowed within or without. That Committee, it can go home. None of it has the diamond.”

  “And the other gentlemen?” asked Grimsby. “They’ll be anxious to get about their business, too. There’s Sir John Carron from the India Office and Mr. Gautami Chinje — the Gaekwar’s representative.”

  “Of course — certainly,” mused Moris Klaw. “But, of course, too, they will all be anxious to know immediately the result of my inquiries. Listen — Mr. Anderson will remain; he can represent the City. Mr. Chinje, you will perhaps ask him to remain, to represent the Gaekwar — the vendor; and Sir John Carron, he might be so good. Make those arrangements, Mr. Grimsby, and let nothing again disturb me.”

  We left him, returning to the outer office.

  Sir John Carron expressed himself willing to remain.

  “If I may use your telephone for a moment, Mr. Anderson,” he said, “I can put off an engagement.”

  Mr. Chinje had no other engagement, and Mr. Anderson’s duties had detained him in any event. There was some general, but subdued, conversation before the rest of the party left; but finally Sir John, Chinje, Grimsby, Isis Klaw and myself found ourselves in a waiting-room on the opposite side of the corridor, provided with refreshments and the gentlemen of the party with cigars, whilst the hospitable and deeply anxious Messrs. Anderson piled the table with periodical literature for our entertainment.

  It was a curious interlude, which I shall always remember.

  Sir John Carron, a tall, bronzed military man, middle-aged and perfectly groomed, surveyed Isis Klaw through his monocle with undisguised admiration. She bore this scrutiny with the perfect composure which was hers, and presently en
gaged the admiring baronet in some conversation about India, wherein Mr. Chinje presently joined. Chinje had all the quiet self-possession of a high-caste Hindu; and his darkly handsome face exhibited no signs of annoyance when Sir John adopted that tone of breezy patronage characteristic of some Anglo-Indian officers who find themselves in the company of a well-bred native. Grimsby, with recognition of his social inferiority written largely upon him, smoked, for the most part, in silence — Isis having given him permission to light up. Seeing his covert glances at this intimate trio, I ultimately succeeded in making the conversation a general one, thereby earning the Scotland Yard man’s evident gratitude.

  “You know, Inspector Grimsby,” said Sir John, “I never was searched before to-day! But, by Jove, you did it very efficiently! I was dreadfully tempted to strike you when you calmly turned out my purse! Your method was far more workmanlike than Sir Michael Cayley’s a few minutes earlier. He forgot to look in my watch-case, but you didn’t!”

  Grimsby smiled.

  “There’s more in a simple thing like searching a man than most people take into consideration,” he replied. “I’ve known a Kaffir in the mines who — excuse me, Miss Klaw — wore no more than Adam, to walk off with stones worth my year’s wages.”

  “I’m prepared to accept your assurance, Inspector,” said Sir John, “that none of us had the diamond about our persons.”

  “My father has accepted it,” added Isis Klaw; “and that is conclusive.”

  Which brought us face to face again with the amazing problem that we were there to solve. How, by any known natural law, had the Blue Rajah been taken out of the room? None of us could conjecture. That the detective was hopelessly mystified, his inaction, awaiting the result of Moris Klaw’s seance, was sufficient proof. I wondered if the Commissioner would have approved of his passive attitude and entire dependence upon the efforts of an amateur, yet failed to perceive what other he could adopt. One thing was certain; if the diamond was recovered, its recovery would be recorded among Detective-Inspector Grimsby’s successful cases! And there he sat placidly smoking one of Mr. Anderson’s cabanas.