similar procedure, and so on with the remainder, until the last box had been probed to the bottom, when the professor sat back in his chair and drew a deep breath. “Well,” he exclaimed, “it is a terrible disaster and profoundly mysterious. In effect, the collection has been skimmed of everything of real value. Even the moonstones have been exchanged for cheap specimens with the rough native cutting untouched. I have never heard of anything like it. But I don’t understand why the fellow took all this trouble. He couldn’t have supposed that the robbery would pass undetected.”
“It might easily have remained undetected long enough to confuse the issues,” said Thorndyke. “If the jewels had been returned to the cabinets and lain there undisturbed for a few months, it would have been very difficult to determine exactly when, or where, or how the robbery had been carried out.”
“Yes,” growled Hollis. “The scoundrel must have known that I am no expert and reckoned on my not spotting the change. And I don’t suppose I should, for that matter. However, the cat slipped out of the bag sooner than he expected and now the police are close on his heels. I’ll have my pound of flesh out of him yet.”
As he snapped out this expression of his benevolent intentions, Mr. Hollis gathered up the remnant of unrifled jewels and was about to deposit them in one of the empty boxes when Thorndyke interposed.
“May I lend you a deed-box with some fresh packing? I think we agreed that the empty boxes and the packing should be left with me, that I might examine them thoroughly before returning them.”
“Very well,” said Hollis, “though it seems a pretty futile thing to do. But I suppose you know your own business. What about those sham stones?”
“I should like to examine them too, as they are facsimile imitations; and we may possibly learn some thing from the settings.”
“What do you expect to learn?” Hollis inquired in a tone which pretty plainly conveyed his expectations.
“Very little,” Thorndyke replied (on which Hollis nodded a somewhat emphatic agreement). “But,” he continued, “this case will depend on circumstantial evidence—unless the robber confesses—and that evidence has yet to be discovered. We can do no more than use our eyes to the best advantage in the hope that we may light on some trace that may give us a lead.”
Hollis nodded again. “Sounds pretty hopeless,” said he. “However, Mr. Penfield advised me to put the affair in your hands, so I have done so. If you should discover anything that will help us with the prosecution, I suppose you will let me know.”
“I shall keep Mr. Penfield informed as to what evidence, if any, is available, and he will, no doubt, communicate with you.”
With this rather vague promise Mr. Hollis appeared to be satisfied, for he pursued the subject no farther, but, having packed the poor remainder of his treasures in the deed-box, prepared to depart.
“Before you go,” said Thorndyke, “I should like to take a trial impression of your seal, if you would allow me.”
Hollis stared at him in amazement. “My seal!” he exclaimed. “Why, good God, sir, you have already got some seventy impressions—six from each of these boxes and all those from the empties!”
“The seals that I have,” Thorndyke replied, “are the questioned seals. I should like to have what scientists call a ‘control.’
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘questioned seals,’” Hollis retorted. “I haven’t questioned them, I have acknowledged them as my own seals.”
“I think,” Thorndyke rejoined with a faint smile, “that Mr. Penfield would advise you to acknowledge nothing. But, furthermore, none of these seals is a really perfect impression such as one would require for purposes of comparison.”
“Comparison!” exclaimed Hollis. “Comparison with what? But there,” he concluded with a sour smile, “it’s no use arguing. Have it your own way. I suppose you know what you are about.”
With this, he drew off the ring, and, laying it on the table, bestowed a glance of defiance on Thorndyke. The latter had, apparently, made his preparations, for he promptly produced from a drawer a small box, the opening of which revealed a supply of sealing-wax, a spirit-lamp, a metal plate, a little crucible or melting-ladle with a wooden handle, a bottle of oil, a camel’s-hair brush, and a number of small squares of white paper. While he was setting out this apparatus the professor examined the seal through his lens.
“A fine example,” he pronounced. “Syracusan, I should say, fourth or fifth century B.C. Not unlike the decadrachm of that period—the racing Quadriga with the winged Victory above and the panoply of armour below seem to recall that coin. The stone seems to be green chalcedony. It is a beautiful work. Seems almost a pity to employ it in common use.”
He surrendered it regretfully to Thorndyke, who, having taken an infinitesimal drop of oil on the point of the brush and wiped it off on the palm of his hand, delicately brushed the surface of the seal. Then he laid a square of paper on the metal plate, broke off a piece from one of the sticks of sealing-wax and melted it in the crucible over the lamp. When it was completely liquefied, he poured it slowly on the centre of the square of paper, where it formed a circular, convex pool. Having given this a few seconds to cool, he took the ring and pressed it steadily on the soft wax. When he raised it—which he did with extreme care, steadying the paper with his fingers—the wax bore an exquisitely perfect impression of the seal.
Hollis was visibly impressed by the careful manipulation and the fine result; and when Thorndyke had repeated the procedure, he requested that a third impression might be made for his own use. This having been made and bestowed in the deed-box, he replaced the ring on his finger, bade the professor and Thorndyke a curt farewell, and made his way down to the waiting cab.
As the door closed behind him, the professor turned to Thorndyke with a somewhat odd expression on his face.
“This is a very mysterious affair, Doctor,” said he.
The curiously significant tone caused Thorndyke to cast a quick, inquiring glance at the speaker. But he merely repeated the latter’s remark.
“A very mysterious affair, indeed.”
“As I understand it,” the professor continued, “Hollis claims that these gems were stolen from the boxes while they were in the solicitor’s strong-room; and that they were taken without breaking the seals. But that sounds like sheer nonsense. And yet the solicitor appears to accept the suggestion.”
“Yes. Hollis claims that the gems that were put into the boxes were the real gems; and both he and the solicitor, Woodstock, base their beliefs on the fact that Woodstock’s confidential clerk appears to have absconded immediately after the discovery of the robbery.”
“H’m!” grunted the professor. “Is it quite clear that the clerk has really absconded?”
“He has disappeared for no known reason.”
“H’m. Not quite the same thing, is it? But has it been established that the real stones were actually in the boxes when they were handed to the solicitor?”
“I wouldn’t use the word ‘established,’” Thorndyke admitted. “There is evidence that one stone, at least, was intact a day or two before the boxes were deposited; and that stone—a large emerald—was found to have been changed when the box was opened.”
The professor grunted dubiously and reflected awhile. Then he looked hard at Thorndyke and appeared to be about to make some observation; and then he seemed to alter his mind, for he concluded with the somewhat colourless remark: “Well, I daresay you are quite alive to all the possibilities,” and with this he prepared to take his departure.
“Do you happen,” asked Thorndyke, “to know the addresses of any lapidaries who specialize in imitation stones?”
Professor Eccles reflected. “Imitations are rather out of my province,” he replied. “Of course any lapidary could cut a paste gem or make a doublet