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Updated: June 6, 2025
Gennaro fumbled in his pocketbook again, and at last drew forth a typewritten letter bearing the letter-head of the Leslie Laboratories, Incorporated. "After I received the first threat," explained Gennaro, "my wife and I went from our apartments at the hotel to her father's, the banker Cesare, you know, who lives on Fifth Avenue. I gave the letter to the Italian Squad of the police.
It lay where it always lay, that ring, between the folds of that little white glove in his pocketbook. Jimmie Dale took it out now, and handed it silently to the chauffeur. The other's face changed instantly composure was gone, and a quick, strained look was in its place. "I'm afraid I've been watched," he said tersely. "Look behind you, will you, and tell me if you see anything?"
Even Trudy was nonplussed. Once the treasure was secure in her possession she told herself it had been so easy that she was a fool not to have tried it before she even complimented Gay on his scarfpin. But she began hating him also. No one would have suspected it, to watch these diamond-adorned young people guzzling crab-meat cocktails and planning fiercer raids on Beatrice O'Valley's pocketbook.
"Now listen to this," said the landlord, who had picked up a Frankfort paper: "An Englishman lost his pocketbook on Saturday evening in the grounds of the Forest-house, in the suburbs of Frankfort. It contained valuable papers and money, and was found by a young man named Pixy from the Odenwald country, and delivered to the owner."
But he hasn't said a word since we arrested him." Then followed the detailed report of the arrest, and the delivery of the described pocketbook to the commissioner. "Is that all?" asked Dr. von Riedau. "Yes, sir." "Then you may go home now, we will take charge of the man." The policeman bowed and left the room. A few moments later the tramp was brought in, guarded by two armed roundsmen.
The owner of the wallet would certainly reimburse him for the amount he paid the finder, and might offer more and the contents of the wallet would insure him against loss. He hesitated a moment longer, and then handed the man two ten dollar bills. The stranger gave him the pocketbook, and after a few words more, walked off.
"Hum," mused the colonel. "Rather a different story from the garage man's. However, we shall see." Dr. Baird was in. In fact, being a very young doctor indeed, he was rather more in than out too much in to suit his own inclination and pocketbook, for, as yet, the number of his patients was small.
I shall be there a couple of hours, probably. We are to have a directorial meeting." "I will tell him." Colonel Preston attended the directors' meeting, and also collected his dividend, amounting to eight hundred dollars. These, in eight one-hundred-dollar bills, he put in his pocketbook, and returned to the hotel for dinner. "Dinner is not quite ready, colonel," said the landlord.
There was a hole in the pocket, but Mr. Carroll says it was too small for the pocketbook to have worked through. However, it must have done so unless someone took it out of his pocket at Netherby, and that is not possible, because he never had his coat off, and it was in an inside pocket. It's not likely that they will ever see it again. Someone may pick it up, of course, but the chances are slim.
"Do you ever bet, Marquis?" Peter Ruff asked. "Twenty-five thousand francs," Sogrange said, smiling, "that your efforts to aid Mr. John Dory are unavailing." Peter Ruff entered the amount in his pocketbook. "It is a bargain," he declared. "Our bet, I presume, carries immunity for me?" "By all means," Sogrange answered, with a little bow.
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