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Updated: May 17, 2025
"I wonder if he knows more about this than he has told! He was the 'company, you know, but his interest in the business was only very slight. By George " "Not too fast, Mr. Andrews," interrupted Craig. "We have still to see Mrs. Morowitch and the doctor before we form any theories."
"A very handsome woman, too," said Andrews, as we seated ourselves in the car: "A good deal younger than Morowitch. Say, Kahan isn't a bad-looking chap, either, is he? I hear he was a very frequent visitor at his partner's house. Well, which first, Mrs. M. or the doctor?" "The house," answered Craig. Mr. Andrews introduced us to Mrs.
"Practically the same, the Rockefeller treatment." "Could it have been suicide" asked Andrews. "There was no motive for it, I believe," replied the doctor. "But was there any such poison in the Morowitch house?" "I know that they were much interested in photography. Cyanide of potassium is used in certain processes in photography." "Who was interested in photography, Mr. or Mrs. Morowitch?"
"You remember Morowitch's 'hallucination, as the doctor called it? That was no hallucination; that was a reality. This man Poissan says he has discovered a way to make diamonds artificially out of pure carbon in an electric furnace. Morowitch, I believe, was to buy his secret. His dream of millions was a reality at least to him." "And did Kahan and Mrs. Morowitch know it?" I asked quickly.
You are spies, spies. You come from the friends of Morowitch, do you? You have gone too far with me." Kennedy said nothing, but retreated and took his coat and hat off the window ledge. The hideous penetrating light of the tongues of flame from the furnace played on the ground-glass window. Poissan laughed a hollow laugh. "Put down your hat and coat, Mistair Kennedy," he hissed.
I gave him some strychnine to strengthen his heart and by hard work I had him resting apparently a little easier. A nurse had been sent for, but had not arrived when a messenger came to me telling of a very sudden illness of Mrs. Morey, the wife of the steel-magnate. As the Morey home is only a half-block away, I left Mr. Morowitch, with very particular instructions to his wife as to what to do.
This case which I wish to put in your hands is that of Mr. Solomon Morowitch, a wealthy Maiden Lane jeweller. I suppose you have read something in the papers about his sudden death and the strange robbery of his safe?" "Very little," replied Craig. "There hasn't been much to read." "Of course not, of course not," said Mr. Andrews with some show of gratification.
Morowitch to be suffering from a congestion of the lungs that was very like a sudden attack of pneumonia. "Mr. Morowitch had at once gone to bed, or at least was in bed, when the doctor arrived, but his condition grew worse so rapidly that the doctor hastily resorted to oxygen, under which treatment he seemed to revive.
"The lock on the door was intact whoever did the job let himself in by a key. There is no other way to get in." Andrews gave a low whistle and glanced involuntarily up at the window with the sign of Morowitch & Co. in gold letters several floors above. "Don't look up. I think that was Kahan looking out at us," he said, fixing his eyes on his cigar.
Francois, bring out the jewels ha! ha! here in this bag are the jewels of Mr. Morowitch. To-night Francois and I will go down by the back elevator to a secret exit. In two hours all your police in New York cannot find us. But in two hours you two impostors will be suffocated perhaps you will die of cyanogen, like Morowitch, whose jewels I have at last."
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