The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet Part 17

"And we shall find it!" he added.

"D'Aurelle and Vantine found it," I muttered thickly.

"Well?"

"And they're both dead!"

"It won't kill us. We will go about it armoured, Lester. That poisoned fang may strike--"

"Don't!" I cried, and cowered back into my chair. "I--I can't do it, G.o.dfrey. G.o.d knows, I'm no coward--but not that!"

"You shall watch me do it!" he said.

"That would be even worse!"

"But I'll be ready, Lester. There will be no danger. Come, man! Why, it's the chance of a lifetime--to rifle the secret drawer of Madame de Montespan! Yes!" he added, his eyes glowing, "and to match ourselves against the greatest criminal of modern times!"

His shrill laugh told how excited he was.

"And do you know what we shall find in that drawer, Lester? But no --it is only a guess--the wildest sort of a guess--but if it is right--if it is right!"

He sprang from his chair, biting his lips, his whole frame quivering.

But he was calmer in a moment.

"Anyway, you will help me, Lester? You will come?"

There was a wizardry in his manner not to be resisted. Besides--to rifle the secret drawer of Madame de Montespan! To match oneself against the greatest criminal of modern times! What an adventure!

"Yes," I answered, with a quick intaking of the breath; "I'll come!"

He clapped me on the shoulder, his face beaming.

"I knew you would! To-morrow night, then--I'll call for you here at seven o'clock. We'll have dinner together--and then, hey for the great secret! Agreed?"

"Agreed!" I said.

He caught up coat and hat and started for the door.

"There are things to do," he said; "that armour to prepare--the plan of campaign to consider, you know. Good-night, then, till--this evening!"

The door closed behind him, and his footsteps died away down the hall. I looked at my watch--it was nearly two o'clock.

Dizzily I went to bed. But my sleep was broken by a fearful dream--a dream of a serpent, with blazing eyes and dripping fangs, poised to strike!

CHAPTER X

PREPARATIONS

My first thought, when I awoke next morning, was for Parks, for G.o.dfrey's manner had impressed me with the feeling that Parks was in much more serious danger than either he or I suspected. It was with a lively sense of relief, therefore, that I heard Parks's voice answer my call on the 'phone.

"This is Mr. Lester," I said. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything serene, sir," he answered. "It would take a mighty smooth burglar to get in here now, sir."

"How is that?" I asked.

"Reporters are camped all around the house, sir. They seem to think somebody else will be killed here to-day."

He laughed as he spoke the words, but I was far from thinking the idea an amusing one.

"I hope not," I said, quickly. "And don't let any of the reporters in, nor talk to them. Tell them they must go to the police for their information. If they get too annoying, let me know, and I'll have an officer sent around."

"Very good, sir."

"And, Parks."

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't let anybody in the house--no matter what he wants--unless Mr.

Grady or Mr. Simmonds or Mr. Goldberger accompanies him. Don't let anybody in you don't know. If there is any trouble, call me up. I want you to be careful about this."

"I understand, sir."

"How is Rogers?" I asked.

"Much better, sir. He wanted to get up, but I told him he might as well stay in bed, and I'd look after things. I thought that was the best place for him, sir."

"It is," I agreed. "Keep him there as long as you can. I'll come in during the day, if possible; in any event, Mr. G.o.dfrey and I will be there this evening. Call me at the office, if you need me for anything."

"Very good, sir," said Parks again, and I hung up.

I glanced through G.o.dfrey's account of the affair while I ate my breakfast, and noted with amus.e.m.e.nt the sly digs taken at Commissioner Grady. Under the photograph of the unknown woman was the legend:

MR. VANTINE'S MYSTERIOUS CALLER

(Grady Please Notice)

And it was intimated that when Grady wanted any real information about an especially puzzling case, he had to go to the _Record_ to get it.

This, however, was merely by the way, for the story of the double tragedy, fully ill.u.s.trated, was flung across many columns, and was plainly considered the great news feature of the day.

I glanced at two or three other papers on my way down-town. All of them featured the tragedy with a riot of pictures--pictures of d'Aurelle and Vantine, of Grady (very large), of Simmonds, of Goldberger, of Freylinghuisen, of the Vantine house, diagrams of the ante-room showing the position in which the bodies were found, anatomical charts showing the exact nature of the wounds, pictures of the noted poisoners of history with a highly-coloured list of their achievements--but, when it came to the story of the tragedy itself, their accounts were far less detailed and intimate than that in the _Record_. They were, indeed, for the most part, mere farragos of theories, guesses, blood-curdling suggestions, and mysterious hints of important information confided to the reporters but withheld from the public until the criminal had been run to earth. That this would soon be accomplished not a single paper doubted, for had not Grady, the mighty Grady, taken personal charge of the case? (Here followed a glowing history of Grady's career.)

It was evident enough that all these reporters had been compelled to go to Grady for their information, and I could fancy them d.a.m.ning him between their teeth as they penned these panegyrics. I could also fancy their city editors d.a.m.ning as they compared these incoherent imaginings with the admirable and closely-written story in the _Record_, and I suspected that it was the realisation of the _Record's_ triumph which had caused the descent of the phalanx of reporters upon the Vantine place.