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"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.
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.
"I went over them the other day and noticed some were missing, though I saw them all when I paid a visit to her just a short time before she was killed." "Was this odd coin in her collection?" asked the colonel, as he looked at the piece which Kettridge handed him. It was of considerable value to a collector. "That was hers," went on the jeweler.
Kettridge had a jeweler's magnifying glass stuck in one eye, and it gave him a most grotesque appearance as he glanced from the wheels, springs and levers, spread out in front of him, over to Colonel Ashley. "There is only one thing to do, gentlemen," observed the detective, who had one finger keeping a certain place in a certain green book. "And that is "
Kettridge, the former with the rare coin, went out into the cool and star-lit night, leaving behind them the sounds of good-fellowship, of that particular brand, in the Homestead. One of the first places the colonel visited the next day was the jewelry shop. Matters there had nearly assumed their normal aspect. Trade was about the same, under the skilful management of Mr.
It was then Colonel Ashley had a chance to speak to Mr. Kettridge. "What's all this I hear?" asked the detective. "I don't know," and the manager smiled wearily. "If you heard all of the rumors I did they would include everything from an I.W.W. plot to a combined attack by New York gunmen." "But what was it?"
Kettridge in the dimly-lighted jewelry shop after Sallie had been taken to the hospital. "What shocked her?" "The same electric wires on the showcase that shocked Miss Brill the other day. The electricians had been told to remove them, but had not yet done so." "But I thought those wires were dead cut after the other accident, Mr. Kettridge." "So they were.
Positively my last case!" and once more he banged his hand down on the table. Again the waiter glided up. He looked at the colonel expectantly, and the latter stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. "Oh, yes," went on the detective. "You may bring me er just a small glass of claret a very small one." Mr. Kettridge gave his order, and then looked relieved.
There was a rattle of coins on the mahogany bar as King sought to disentangle a single bill from the wadded-up currency in his pocket. Some coins fell to the floor and rolled in the direction of the table whereat sat the colonel and Mr. Kettridge. The latter, with a pitying smile on his face, leaned over to pick them up.
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.