Robert Barr - Jennie Baxter, Journalist

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Is it your own house? I was told it was mortgaged up to the tallest turret. Still, you can’t blame Mr. Briggs for being anxious about the diamonds; they belong to his daughter.”

“They belong to my wife.”

“True. That complicates matters a bit, and gives both Chicago and Vienna a right to look black. And now, your Highness, I must take my leave of you; and if the diamonds come safely in the morning, remember I intend to claim salvage on them. Meanwhile, I am going to write a nice little story about them.”

In the morning the diamonds arrived by special messenger, who first took a formal receipt for them, and then most obsequiously took his departure. By the same train came Mr. Cadbury Taylor, as modest as ever, but giving some indication in his bearing of the importance of the discovery his wonderful system had aided him in making. He blandly evaded the curiosity of Mr. Briggs, and said it would perhaps be better to reveal the secret in the presence of the Prince and Princess, as his investigations had led him to conclusions that might be unpleasant for one of them to hear, yet were not to be divulged in their absence.

“Just what I suspected,” muttered Mr. Briggs, who had long been convinced that the Prince was the actual culprit.

The important gathering took place in the library, the Prince, with the diamonds in his coat pocket, seated at the head of the long table, while the Princess sat at the foot, as far from her husband as she could conveniently get without attracting notice. Miss Baxter stood near a window, reading an important letter from London which had reached her that morning. The tall, thin detective and the portly Mr. Briggs came in together, the London man bowing gravely to the Prince and Princess. Mr. Briggs took a seat at the side of the table, but the detective remained standing, looking questioningly at Miss Baxter, but evidently not recognizing her as the lady who had come in upon him and his friend when they had entered the train.

“I beg the pardon of your Highness, but what I have to say had better be said with as few hearers as possible. I should be much obliged if this young person would read her correspondence in another room.”

“The young woman,” said the Prince coldly, “is secretary to her Highness, and is entirely in her confidence.”

The Princess said nothing, but sat with her eyes upon the table, apparently taking no note of what was going on. Rich colour came into her face, and, as the keen detective cast a swift glance at her, he saw before him a woman conscious of her guilt, fearing exposure, yet not knowing how to avert it.

“If your Highness will excuse my persistence,” began Mr. Taylor blandly.

“But I will not,” interrupted the Prince gruffly. “Go on with your story without so much circumlocution.”

The detective, apparently unruffled by the discourtesy he met, bowed profoundly towards the Prince, cleared his throat, and began.

“May I ask your Highness,” he said, addressing himself to the Princess, “how much money you possessed just before you left Vienna?”

The lady looked up at him in surprise, but did not answer.

“In Heaven’s name, what has that to do with the loss of the diamonds?” rapped out the Prince, his hot temper getting once more the better of him. Cadbury Taylor spread out his hands and shrugged his shoulders in protest at the interruption. He spoke with deference, but nevertheless there was a touch of reproach in his tone.

“I am accustomed to being listened to with patience, and am generally allowed to tell my story my own way, your Highness.”

“What I complain of is that you are not telling any story at all, but are asking instead a very impertinent question.”

“Questions which seem to you irrelevant may be to a trained mind most—”

“Bosh! Trained donkeys! Do you know where the diamonds are?”

“Yes, I do,” answered Cadbury Taylor, still imperturbable, in spite of the provocation he was receiving.

“Well, where are they?”

“They are in the vaults of your bank in Vienna.”

“I don’t believe it. Who stole them then?”

“They were put there by her Highness the Princess von Steinheimer, doubtless in security for money—”

“What!” roared the Prince, springing to his feet, his stentorian voice ringing to the ceiling. “Do you mean to insinuate, you villain, that my wife stole her own diamonds?”

“If your Highness would allow me to proceed in my own—”

“Enough of this fooling. There are the diamonds,” cried the Prince, jerking the box from his pocket and flinging it on the table.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.