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IfnuLtusiris^iraws 45
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i SYNOPSIS.
■ * —
SB The story opens with a scream from
^■orothy March In the opera box of Mrs.
^■lissioner, a wealthy widow. It Is oc
^■asioned when Mrs. Missloner’s necklace
^■reales, scattering the diamonds all over
^■le Stoor- Curtis Griswold and Bruxton
{■ands, society men In love with Mrs. Mls
|■ioner, gather up the gems. Griswold
■Steps on what Is supposed to be the cele
^■rated Maharanee and crushes It. A Hin
^■oo declares It was not the'genuine. An
^■xpert later pronounces all the stones
^■ubstltutes for the original. Detectives
■>onnelly and Carson investigate. They
^■eclde that the theft of the original gems
^was Bdieompllshed by some one In the
^■ouse. Miss Elinor Holcomb, confidential
■■ompanion of Mrs. Mlssioner, Is sus
■fected. One of the missing diamonds is
■ pund in her room. Mrs. Missloner pro
■ ests that Elinor Is Innocent, but she is
■aken to prison. Meantime, in an up-
Bown mansion, two Hindoos, wno are in
^■Lmerica to recover the Maharanee, dls
■luss the arrest. Detective Britz takes up
■he case. He evidently believes Elinor in
■ioc*nt and asks the co-operation of Dr.
■jawrence Fitch, her fiance, in running
■town the real criminal. He advises Elinor
Biot to seek ball. Britz investigates affairs
■it the Missloner home. He learns that
^Bdrs. Missloner had the diamonds in Paris
■vlth her. Paris police Inform him that
■hiplfcates of the stones were made there
^Bn the order of Elinor Holcomb. Britz
■ntA-vlews Miss March and learns who
^Bf ner friends can draw. Griswold shows
■omu proficiency as an artist. While walk
■ng, Britz is seized and thrown into an
■lutomoblle. He Is bound and drugged by
■ils Hindoo captors.
* CHAPTER XII.
The Empty Apartment.
■ When Britz groped his way out of
■he soundest sleep he had known In
Hna.v a year, It was in absolute Ig
■lorAice of his whereabouts. He
■jasped desperately several times be
■ore he returned to anything like his
■lormal breathing.
I Mingled with the peculiar taste of
■he smothering dark was a faint odor
Hanlike anything in the headquarters
■man’s experience.
I It had a persistence all its own, and
■when he tried to persuade himself
■ils sensory nerves had played a trick
■upon him, it wreathed into his nostrils
■with unmistakable individuality.
■ Britz needed no effort to rise to tell
■him he still was bound hand and foot,
■land In the first Instant of his full
■awakening he realized the silken gag
■still held his speech in thrall. He bit
■the ball of silk savagely, and strained
Bhls tongue until the roots ached in en
■ deavors to force the gag out of his
I mouth. As well might he, helpless as
mo hands and feet as he was, have
Itrldd to -shake off a gorilla’s grip at
Uhls throat. Yet the seeming hopeless-
I mess of his plight did not disturb him
greatly. He had been In worse places.
It was a question of patience, perse
verance and pluck, and when it came
to irlrlle qualities, the famous Central
'ioffice man was abundantly and alllt
leratlvely equipped.
He tested his bonds —gently at first,
ithen vigorously, then with all bls
(Strength.
I He was not a Sandow, but he had
Abundance of pliant and serviceable
ti&ength. After many minutes passed
in vain efforts to free himself, he re
laxed his body and limbs for a short
but complete rest, meanwhile bending
his mind to the task of determining
(where he was. The result of his men
itifl endeavor was as fruitless as the
pother. All he knew at the end of it
was that he lay on a bare floor in a
room which, from the sound of his
heels on the boards, he judged was
small. That thought suggested to him
S. pieans ot summoning help other
4»sn vocal.
He began drumming on the boards
with his heels. It was tiring work,
for hlf ankles were held so close that,
| with his feet beating in alternation,
i* could not make much noise. To
■ Ake a sound likely to carry far, he
had to raise and lower his heels to
gether—an achievement that sounds
easy until one has tried doing it many
times. With all his endurance he
ieould not keep it up for many mlnu-
Utes at a stretch. In the intervals he
strained his hearing for a response.
None came.
Britz rolled over on his face. As
his hands were tied behind his back,
his chin rested on the floor, and he
had little leverage by which to lift
himself. Several times he tried to
rise to his knees, only to slip
and bruise his face on the hard floor.
i Those mishaps were painful, but not
I discouraging to a man of Britz’ reso
j lateness. Again and again he made
the attempt; again and again he
galled, but at last, with a mighty
bjave that left him panting, he raised
him self by a catapult movement and
sat back on his heels, waiting to
isatch his breath.
- It was a harder task to get on his
teet. He could not do it in the middle
of the floor. Slowly, carefully, he
worked his way on his knees to the
wall, against which he braced himself.
(Then, bit by bit, he bent his feet for
ward in a demilune until his weight
^was on knees and toes. His progress
was as painful as it was slow, for the
■ilk scarf compelled his ankles to
bend in unison, if at all, and even
when he had bent his toes to the
Requisite point it was a great strain
to keep them there.
The detective, after a brief pause
to gather his strength, set his shoul
der against the wall and threw all his
force into a single, vigorous push.
Sfhe movement almost threw him to
4he floor again, but he recovered his
poise quickly and stood erect. For a
few mements he was content to revel
tai ths valuation that was z* welcome
after his long continuance in a
cramped and prostrate position. Then
a second’s forgetfulness, natural
enough to one accustomed to his free
dom of movement, almost undid the
work of the last half hour. He tried
to step away from the wall, oblivious
to the scarf that bound his ankles,
and pitched forward heavily. He did
not fall to the floor, however, for
something sharp and hard stopped
him. He found himself wedged be
tween a metallic framework and the
wall. A venomous hiss and the con
tact of his bound hands with hot
metal told him he had fallen on a
steam radiator, and as the hissing
sound increased he guessed the shock
had broken the little safety valve
close to the top of the curved pipes.
If the detective’s position had been
perilous before it was extra hazard
ous now. He was gripped in the jaws
formed by the radiator and the wall,
and neither hands nor feet at liberty,
It seemed next to impossible for him
to free himself. He kicked and strug
gled furiously, the hiss of the steam
constantly growing louder, and
in his endeavor to escape, he bent for
ward until his face was scalded by the
rushing steam. The pain of that mis
hap aided him, however, for the in
voluntary recoil it caused culminated
in a final effort that loosed the grip
in which he was held and sent him
staggering in a series of two-footed
hops along the wall.
Bracing his shoulders once more
against the wall, Britz began another
series of vigorous attempts to break
the silken scarves, or to slip out of
them. Exerting all his strength, he
strained alternately at wrist and
ankles, and ground between his teeth
the little ball of silk that blocked his
voice. But it was all to no purpose.
His captors knew their trade, and the
clinging bonds, while yielding, did not
give at any point sufficiently to set the
sleuth at liberty. Suddenly a thought,
swift and keep as a saber flash, clove
Its way straight through his perplex
ity. That which imperiled his life
should give him liberty. He sidled
along the wall until he stood beside
the radiator at the end away from the
safety valve. Pressing against the
edge of the metal the scarf that held
his hands, he began swinging himself
from side to side. The corrugated
edge of the ornamental Ironwork
served as a saw, and although more
than once the man gasped as clouds
of steam whirled about his h®ad, in
fewer minutes than would seem prob
able the metallic edge gnawed Its way
through the silk, and the kerchief
parted with abruptness that sent
Britz reeling back against the wall
and crashing headlong to the floor.
His hands were free! And as that
welcome realization followed the jar
ring impact of his head against an
angle of the baseboard, Lieutenant
Britz laughed softly as with busy fin
gers he loosed the scarf about his
ankles, snatched the gag from his
mouth, and, with a single shake of his
shoulders, that rippled the kinks out of
his cramped muscles, strode to the
window and flung up the sash. One
deep intake of good, cold air, then half
a dozen more, and he felt as fit as if
he had not been close to a distressing
and altogether ignominious end. He
gripped the sill and leaned far out,
looking first downward, then all
around In quest of a landmark. There
were not many lights on that side of
the building, but a faint gleam in the
depths enabled him to judge that he
was about at the tenth story, and that
the building was in an unfrequented
uptown street. Withdrawing his head
he pressed the button of a pocket elec
tric torch and explored the room.
From the style of its finish it evident
ly was a section of an unoccupied
apartment in a new and rather pre
tentious building, a room planned to
be cut off from the rest of the suite,
for it seemed to give directly on the
hall and was separated from its neigh
bor by a fireproof door of massive
aieel. He seized the handle. It
turned readily, but the door did not
open. The same was true of the door
between the room and the hall. He
shook both doors with all his
strength, but they had been locked
too stoutly to yield. It was apparent
the kidnappers had made him a pris
oner in full knowledge of the unlike
lihood he would be released speedily.
That they had plotted his death was
not certain, but It was unmistakable
they had given themselves little, if
any, concern in that respect Britz
thought of the possibilities of fire as
he had lain bound on the floor, and an
unpleasant sensation passed over
him; but he hastened back to the
window and examined the outside of
the building with a view to escape in
that direction. He did not expect to
overtake his abductors quickly, nor
was he even of a mind to devote the
bulk of his time to that purpose. But
he regarded the capture of his recent
captors as an Important side enter
prise to the solution of the great dia
mond mystery, and habit made him
eager to begin working without delay.
There was a fire escape on the floor
whence he looked out —a thoroughly
modern contrivance with flat steps,
and a really serviceable handrail’—but
it did not run to the window at which
he stood. However, Britz had more
than one attribute of the lynx, and It
“A Speck of Diamond Dust Could Not Have Escaped Us.”
did not tax his agility greatly to
reach the balcony while still gripping
the window frame securely, and, with
one quick movement, to swing him
self over the ladder rail. It was the
work of a minute or two to run down
the easy steps to the first floor above
the street and, from that point, he
had only a short drop to the sidewalk.
He strolled in a casual way to the
front of the big apartment building,
which looked toward the Hudson, and
noting its location, quickened his pace,
walking south until he came to a cab
stand. He gave a chauffeur the num
ber of the Swami’s house, jumped into
a taxicab and continued his course in
a southerly direction, the driver in
obedience to his instructions wheeling
east at Seventy-second street and
turning into the park.
CHAPTER XIII.
Interviewing the Swami.
While Britz was speeding south
ward in the taxicab two men were in
the midst of animated discussion in
the Swami’s room. They were the
scholar himself and his up-to-date
friend, Prince Kananda. The prince
had arrived in the gloom-enshrouded
house only a few minutes before. He
had uttered several short, sharp sen
tences big with interest that had
stirred the Swami from the repose
usual to the Oriental priest. It was
evident that Kananada expected a re
sponsive remark from his friend, and
that the Swami, feeling the obligation,
was weighing his words before utter
ance.
"Nothing of the slightest interest to
us was found,” said Kananda, evident
ly in repetition. He had seen a skep
tical expression spread over the
Swamis bronze face, and anticipated
an inquiry.
“The search was thorough?” asked
the scholar.
"My dear old chap,” said the Prince,
"is it likely we would go to such ex
traordinary lengths without being
most painstaking in that respect? A
speck of diamond dust could not have
escaped us."
A slow smile gleamed through the
mask that comprised the scholar’s
features. Mock deference colored his
manner as, taking the mouthpiece of
the Oriental pipe from between his
lips and tossing the tube over to the
divan, he arose and paced the length
of the room.
"Far be it from thy servant, O
Prince,” he said with palpable sar
casm, "to question the method pur
sued by so Illustrious a personage;
but,” and he here returned to the easy
familiarity of their ordinary inter
course, “since the search was made so
thoroughly, since it was a climax to
a deed so venturesome that It might
have embroiled you even with such
slow-witted persons as the policemen
of the Western world, would it not
have been well to have got the right
man?”
"You mean —?’’
"I mean, your Royal Highness,”
said the priest with another touch of
ironic homage, "that the man whom
the brilliant All and his equally intelli
gent assistants seized so boldly in the
park, and then spirited away with a
skill hardly to be equaled by an In
dian schoolboy, was not the person
whom it was worth your distinguished
while to search.”
The Prince was dumfounded. He
circled the table, fished in his pocket
for a cigarette, rolled !t abstractedly
between his thumb and middle finger,
lighted it, and then watched the in
scutable features of him whom for so
many years he had called “master.”
“Is it possible?" he exclaimed at
last. "And I gave my personal atten
tion to the task, too! I instructed All
explicitly, and I ordered him to see
that the men who aided him should
be among the shrewdest and most
praiseworthy of our followers. All
had tracked the man for days. He
said he was as familiar with his face
as with that of his own father. How
could they have been mistaken?”
“Easily enough,” said the Swami.
“The men went into Mrs. Missloner’s
home about the same time. There is
a slight resemblance in their general
build, and —the wrong man came out!”
“Then we have lost twelve hours,"
said Kananda.
“You have lost more than that,”
said the priest, " —opportunity. These
Occidentals are singularly fraternal.
It Is not probable that the man you
searched will let the other go un
warned.”
The Prince tossed his cigarette Into
the fire, and with the springing glide
of a panther, and as silently, crossed
to the string of gongs that hung oppo
site the divan, and struck them smart
ly. Almost at the same instant the
heavy portieres at the other end of the
room parted, and Ali’s immobile face
appeared between them. The servant
advanced with salaams that Increased
in profundity as he noted the storm
cloud on Kananda’s brow.
“Son of a pig, and fool of a thou
sand fools!” cried the Prince, his eyes
blazing at the low-caste Hindoo.
“What misguided dotard told you that
you were fit to be intrusted with a
man’s task. Your place is among the
women, and, even there, you would
require a guardian to see that you did
not exchange rupees for copper coins.”
All remained motionless, as one
about whom lightning has flashed, and
who feels his only chance of safety
lies in escaping the notice of the next
bolt. The Swami signaled to Kanan
da, and the Prince, following the hab
its of the Occident, seated himself on
the divan in Oriental fashion, and
calmed himself with deep draughts
from the pipe that bubbled on a low
table. As he smoked, the severity
of his features relaxed a little, and at
length he recovered his composure so
far as to take pity on the exceedingly
uncomfortable All.
“Rise, dog!” he said, “and give us,
if you can, an explanation of the dis
graceful bungling on this simple mis
sion.”
What explanation the servant might
have mustered is a problem. Before
he could collect hie thoughts, the elec
tric bell of the outer door burr-r-rd
sharply. Kananda, the stem of the
pipe In his hand, looked toward the
curtains expectantly, and the Swami
signaled to All to answer the sum
mons without The servant glided,
ghost-like, from the room, returning
shortly with the announcement that
a visitor desired audience with the
famed Oriental scholar. The Prince
disappeared between the portieres of
a small door opposite the main en
trance of the room, the priest nodded
slowly to the servant, and the next
moment All ushed Into the presence
of the sage the man who had had the
temerity to let himself be attacked
in place of him the Easterners had de
sired to search.
"I am a special reporter for 'The
Times,’" said Britz. “I understand
you are a scholar of distinction in
your native land. I would like to have
a talk with you for a Sunday story.”
The Swami’s face wreathed into an
interrogation point.
“My good friend.” he said, “you
have come to the wrong person. I am
not in the least interested in fiction.
Scientific research, with perhaps a
glimpse now and then of the psychic,
limits my activity in literature.”
"You don’t understand,” said Britz.
“Newspaper men call everything a
'story.' I should have said an article
—an interview, you know.”
“Well,” said the Oriental indulgent
ly, “it is not the policy of the propa
ganda to seek publicity through the
columns of the press; but, if I can
serve you in any w» command me.”
“Well, you see, Swami,” said Britz,
“everything pertaining to that illus
trious land of yours is of Interest to
Americans; your religion, your poli
tics, your customs, your women, your
jewels, your boundless wealth. Every
thing you can tell me about India is
sure to interest our readers.”
“If I am to tell you everything
about India,” said the Swami, “we
may as well make ourselves comfort
able.”
He signed to All again, and, rising
with much dignity, he placed a chair
at the disposal of his visitor.
“The East is a pretty big subject,”
said the Swami, and then he spent
many minutes sketching Oriental
ways and thoughts for the entertain
ment of his visitor. To follow him
would be to recapitulate the history
of Hlndostan from centuries before
the British Invasion. When he had
finished, Britz knew enough about In
dia to fill the pages of all the Sunday
papers of New York; but this was not
what the detective wanted.
"Your women evidently lead a pret
ty secluded life,” he said, “but I sup
pose they have their compensations—
their music, embroidery, delicacies,
gems—by the way, Swami, jewels fig
ure largely in your religion, don’t
they?”
The same inscrutable gleam again
flickered in the eyes of the scholar.
“It would be difficult to make you
understand in what way they do,” he
answered. "In the ordinary commer
cial sense, they do not. We of India
care less for the intrinsic value of the
beautiful jewels which you of the
West characterize as precious stones.
They are precious to us, but In a dif
ferent way. We love them for their
loveliness —not merely for their bril
liance and cost. To us, there is a
world of metaphysical meaning In the
lambent glow of a ruby, or the im
prisoned rainbow of a diamond. An
emerald to us is the spirit of the sea
—the spirit of the water itself; just
as the pearl suggests that other world
on the floor of the deep. Jewels, as
we see them, are the crystallized ex
pression of divine emotions. Diamonds
are the tears of Buddha —pearls so
many drops of wisdom from his lips,
and sapphires the heavenly aspira
tions of his thoughts. What to the
Occident means profit, to us means
poetry.”
"Some of your jewels are, I dare
say, a great deal more Important than
others; for example, the Kohlnoor.
Has that no larger value than the or
dinary stone in your eyes?”
“Only so far as it is connected with
the traditions of our faith,” said the
Swami. “Diamonds there are in In
dia, one hundred of which would not
make a Kohlnoor, yet each a thou
sand times more precious to true be
lievers. Wars have been fought,
races exterminated for gems less beau
tiful than those which many of the
minor women of your public stage can
boast They have a meaning impos
sible of comprehension to the Western
mind.”
“And do Hindoos of your generation
set as much store by that sort of
thing as your ancestors did?” asked
Britz.
“The faith of the East is immut
able,” the Swami replied. “Centuries
roll by, but we change not. Nations
have broken themselves to shreds in
efforts to shake the stability of our
land and people. What was true be
fore your Prophet left the carpenter's
bench is true to-day.”
“Now, do you know,” said Britz, vi
vaciously, "all this interests me very
much, and will make a cracking good
story for 'The Times.’ Fancy a whole
people—how many millions did you
say?—so wrapped up in gems that
would not fill a showcase in a Maiden
Lane jewelry shop, that they are will
ing to sacrifice their very lives for
them!”
Britz threw all his skill as a ques
tioner into drawing from the Swami
descriptions of the more famous jew
els of India, deftly keeping the line
of his interrogations on the subject
of diamonds. The Hindoo, his entire
personality an eloquent expression of
the indolence of the East, was alike
luxuriant in his narghlleh and in rem
iniscences of the sacred gems that had
adorned the temples of his faith from
Delhi to Benaree. Slowly, dreamily,
mystically, stories came from his lips
of greed and piety, deeds of daring
and romance, statecraft and intrigues,
until Britz became so interested that
for a time even his trained, vigilant
mind lost sight of the purpose that
had animated all his actions since the
day he learned that the famous Mis
sloner necklace was missing.
When the Easterner ended his string
of tales, many of them replicas in
miniature of the Arabian Nights, and
of still more thrilling Oriental legends,
the Headquarters man had an ex
haustive knowledge of all the great
diamonds in the history of Hindostan.
“Your marvelous gems are not
proof against imitation?" he said in
quiringly. )
'The lesser of them are not," said
the Swami. “But the Kohinoor, the
Light of Calcutta, the Dawn of the
World, and similar stones defy the
best efforts of your artificers. In them
nature has wrought masterpieces ot
glory no human plagiarist can repro
duce.”
“Not even in Paris?” inquired the
visitor. “There is a good deal of talk
just now, you know, about the theft of
a society woman’s diamonds. You
know she discovered that paste dia
monds were substituted, and I under
stand the central jewel was one
of exceptional size.”
“Neither Paris, nor Venice, nor yet
Stamboul can manufacture colorable
imitations of such a stone,” insisted
the Swami. "Imitations, that is to
say, that would deceive anyone with
the crudest knowledge."
"But the Maharanee was undoubted
ly copied," pursued Britz. "If you have
read the newspapers, you know it was
through the discovery of that fact that
Mrs. Missloner learned her necklace
had been stolen.”
Ail the cordiality of the Swami van
ished. He seemed to wrap himself in
the Impenetrable dignity of his caste,
and he dismissed the subject with the
conclusive remark of hie race, "I have
spoken.” In spite of tha most adroit
efforts of his visitor, and despite inter
rogations direct and Indirect, he could
not be induced to discuss the subject
again.
Britz, somewhat baffled, finally led
the conversation into other channels
by bethinking himself of his role In
time to ask the Swami the purpose
and probable length of his stay in
New York.
"I have no objection to telling you,”
answered the priest, "that I am here
to spread the propaganda, to turn the
lamp of the true faith upon the gloom
of your Western civilization.” He con
tinued. “Yes, I am making prose
lytes! I am conducting gatherings of
seekers after the Light, and I am in
structing all who come to me with
open minds and honest hearts.”
Britz picked up his hat and coat
with a reluctant air, and took leave of
the Oriental with not over-profuse ex
pressions of gratitude for his recep
tion. The scholar struck the gong,
the Hindoo servant appeared in the
farther doorway, and In a few seconds
the faint echoes of the visitor’s foot
steps ended in the quiet closing of the
street door.
Kananda, with a carriage akin to
the swagger of the English Guards
man, re-entered the room and looked
at the Swami quizzically.
“You need not put yourself to the
trouble of looking through the Sunday
papers,” said the Swami. “There will
be nothing about this Interview in
‘The Times.’ ”
“No?” returned Kananda “I heard
the reporter say he wanted the facta
for the next issue of his Sunday sup
plement.”
“He is not interested in supple
ments,” replied the priest, “sequels
are his specialty. When he interests
himself in a story he begins at the
‘continued’ line. He- is not a report
er.”
The Prince looked at him inquiring
ly-
"Nor is he the man All should have
searched,” continued the sage. "He is
—one of the cleverest detectives in
New York —Britz, of Headquarters!”
Britz, of Headquarters, did not
waste any time in gloating over th®
result of his interview with the Brah)
mln. In the first place, he did not con
sider that he had scored anything
like a signal victory. He knew enough
of the subtleties of the Orient to ba
aware that such grains of truth as
had come to him in the Swami’s an
swers had been merged into a volum
inous fabric of mendacity—well, call
it diplomacy —and that to winnow out
the few facts vouchsafed to him was
a task for the cloistered seclusion of
his own room, supplemented by ths
silent help of many books of refer
ence. But he was ready to take it for
granted that the Brahmin had spoken
truly in regard to the difficulty of im
itating diamonds of great size. There
was no question the Maharanee had
been copied; how closely he could not
say, as he had unfortunately never
had a glimpse of the false stone. Ths
questions that glmleted their way into
his brain were: Where was the copy
ing done; how was it done; and, of
course, correlatively, by whom was it
done?
It was a busy quarter of an hour
Detective-Lieutenant Britz passed in
his Mulberry Street office. Awaiting
him was a cablegram from Logan,
saying briefly he was trailing all the
workmen who had taken part in the
manufacture of the paste Missloner
necklace, and that none of them had
left Paris.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Queer Hotel Custom.
Hotel customs throughout the world
are varied. A hotel in France is on
wheels and turns so that any room can
be given sunlight. Regulations govern
ing the length of bed sheets have been
made in certain states. Probably the
most unique custom prevails in Tempe,
a town in the Salt River valley, Arizo
na. Here the proprietor refund*
the hotel charges to all his patrons on
any day the sun does not shine. At
first this seems benevolent, but look
ing into the matter we find that he has
been called upon to remit to his guests
only once in the last five years. Guar,
anteelng sunshine Is an original tea
tuna
