you really?” said Mr. Penfield, in a tone which clearly indicated that he did not.
“Certainly; and so will you when you have heard the rest of the story. We now come to the various occasions on which the more valuable parts of this collection were deposited in my strong-room. Let, me describe the procedure. In the first place, Hollis himself packed the jewels in a number of wooden boxes which he had had made specially for the purpose, each about fourteen inches by nine by about five inches deep. Every box had a good lock with a sunk disc on each side of the keyhole for the seals. When the boxes were packed they were locked and a strip of tape put across the keyhole and secured at each end with a seal. They were then wrapped in strong paper and sealed at all the joints with Hollis’s seal—an antique Greek seal set in a ring which he always wears on his finger. On the outside of the cover was written a list of the contents in Hollis’s own handwriting and signed by him, and each box bore in addition a number. The boxes were brought to my office by Hollis and by him delivered personally to me; and I gave him a receipt, roughly describing and enumerating the boxes, but, of course, not committing myself in respect of the contents. I then carried them myself into the strong-room and placed them on an upper shelf which I reserved for them; and there they remained until Hollis fetched them away, when he used to give me a receipt in the same terms as my own. That concluded the particular transaction.
“Now, it happened that at the time when the robbery was discovered, several of the boxes which Hollis had taken back from me about a month previously still remained packed and in their paper wrappings. And it further happened that one of these—there were eight in all—contained an emerald which Hollis had bought only a few days before he packed it. There was no question as to the genuineness of this stone; and when the box was opened, there was no question as to the fact that it had been replaced by a counterfeit. Even Hollis was able to spot the change. So that seemed to fix the date of the robbery to the period during which the box had been in my strong-room.”
“Apparently,” Mr. Penfield agreed. “But you speak of the box as being still in its paper wrapping. What of the seals?”
“Ah!” exclaimed Woodstock, “that is the most mysterious feature of the affair. The seals were unbroken and, so far as Hollis could see, the package was absolutely intact, just as it had been handed to me.”
Mr. Penfield pursed up his lips and took snuff to the verge of intemperance.
“If the seals were unbroken,” said he, “and the package was in all other respects intact, that would seem to be incontestable proof that it had never been opened since it was closed and sealed.”
“That was what I pointed out,” interposed Hepburn, “when Mr. Woodstock talked the matter over with Osmond and me. The unbroken seals seemed a conclusive answer to any suggestion that the robbery took place in our office.”
“So they did,” Woodstock agreed, “and so they would still if Osmond had kept his head. But he didn’t. He had evidently reckoned on the question of a robbery from our strong-room never being raised, and I imagine that it was that emerald that upset his nerve. At any rate, within a week of our discussion he bolted, and then, of course, the murder was out.”
Mr. Penfield nodded gravely and asked, after a short pause: “And how is Mr. Hollis taking it? Is he putting any pressure on you?”
“Oh, not at all—up to the present. He has not suggested any claim against me; he merely wants to lay his hand on the robber and, if possible, get his jewels back. He entirely approves of what I have done.”
“What have you done?” Mr. Penfield asked.
“I have done the obvious thing,” was the reply, delivered in a slightly truculent tone. “As soon as it was clear that Osmond had absconded, I communicated with the police. I laid an information and gave them the leading facts.”
“And do they propose to take any action?”
“Most undoubtedly; in fact I may say that they have been most commendably prompt. They have already traced Osmond to Bristol, and I have every hope that in due course they will run him to earth and arrest him.”
“That is quite probable,” said Mr. Penfield. “And when they have arrested him—?”
“He will be brought back and charged before a magistrate, when we may take it that he will be committed for trial.”
“It is possible,” Mr. Penfield assented, doubtfully. “And then—”
“Then,” replied Woodstock, reddening and raising his voice, “he will be put on his trial and, I make no doubt, sent to penal servitude.”
Mr. Penfield took snuff deprecatingly and shook his head. “I think not,” said he; “but perhaps there is some item of evidence which you have omitted to mention?”
“Evidence!” Woodstock repeated impatiently. “What evidence do you want? The property has been stolen and the man who had an opportunity to steal it has absconded. What more do you want?”
Mr. Penfield looked at his brother solicitor with mild surprise.
“The judge,” he replied, “and I should think the magistrate, too, would want some positive evidence that the accused stole the jewels. There appears to be no such evidence. The unexplained disappearance of this man is a suspicious circumstance; but it is useless to take suspicions into court. You have got to make out a case, and at present you have no case. If the charge were not dismissed by the magistrate, the bill would certainly be thrown out by the Grand Jury.”
Mr. Woodstock glowered sullenly at the old lawyer, but he made no reply, while Hepburn sat with down cast eyes and the faintest trace of an ironical smile.
“Consider,” Mr. Penfield resumed, “what would be the inevitable answer of the defence. They would point out that there is not a particle of evidence that the robbery—if there has really been a robbery—occurred in your office at all, and that there are excellent reasons for believing that it did not.”
“What reasons are there?”
“There are the unbroken seals. Until you can show how the jewels could have been abstracted without breaking the seals, you have not even a prima-facie case. Then there is the method of the alleged robbery. It would have required not merely access but undisturbed possession for a considerable time. It was not just a matter of picking out the stones. They were replaced by plausible counterfeits which had to be made or procured. Take the case of the ruby that you mentioned. It deceived Hollis completely. Then it must have been very like the original in size, form, and colour. It could not have been picked up casually at a theatrical property dealer’s; it must have been made ad hoc by careful comparison with the original. But all this and the subsequent setting and finishing would take time. It would be quite possible while the jewels were lying quietly in Hollis’s cabinets, but it would seem utterly impossible under the alleged circumstances. In short,” Mr. Penfield concluded, “I am astounded that you ever admitted the possibility of the robbery having occurred on your premises. What do you say, Mr. Hepburn?”
“I agree with you entirely,” the latter replied. “My position would have been that we had received certain sealed packages and that we had handed them back in the same condition as we received them. I should have left Hollis to prove the contrary.”
“And I think he could have done it,” said Woodstock doggedly. “You seem to be forgetting that emerald. But in any case I have accepted the suggestion and I am not going to draw back, especially as my confidential clerk has absconded and virtually admitted the theft. The question is, what is to be done? Hollis is mad to get hold of the robber and recover his gems, and he is prepared to stand the racket financially.”
“In that case,” said Mr. Penfield, taking a final pinch and pocketing his snuff-box, “I will venture to make a suggestion. This case is out of your depth and out of mine. I suggest that you allow me to take counsel’s opinion; and the counsel I should select would be Dr. John Thorndyke.”
“Thorndyke—hm!” grunted Woodstock. “Isn’t he an irregular practitioner