The Stanway Cameo Mystery





It is now a fair number of years back since the loss of the famous Stanway

Cameo made its sensation, and the only person who had the least interest

in keeping the real facts of the case secret has now been dead for some

time, leaving neither relatives nor other representatives. Therefore no

harm will be done in making the inner history of the case public; on the

contrary, it will afford an opportunity of vindicating the professional

reputation of Hewitt, who is supposed to have completely failed to make

anything of the mystery surrounding the case. At the present time

connoisseurs in ancient objects of art are often heard regretfully to

wonder whether the wonderful cameo, so suddenly discovered and so quickly

stolen, will ever again be visible to the public eye. Now this question

need be asked no longer.



The cameo, as may be remembered from the many descriptions published at

the time, was said to be absolutely the finest extant. It was a sardonyx

of three strata--one of those rare sardonyx cameos in which it has been

possible for the artist to avail himself of three different colors of

superimposed stone--the lowest for the ground and the two others for the

middle and high relief of the design. In size it was, for a cameo,

immense, measuring seven and a half inches by nearly six. In subject it

was similar to the renowned Gonzaga Cameo--now the property of the Czar of

Russia--a male and a female head with imperial insignia; but in this case

supposed to represent Tiberius Claudius and Messalina. Experts considered

it probably to be the work of Athenion, a famous gem-cutter of the first

Christian century, whose most notable other work now extant is a smaller

cameo, with a mythological subject, preserved in the Vatican.



The Stanway Cameo had been discovered in an obscure Italian village by one

of those traveling agents who scour all Europe for valuable antiquities

and objects of art. This man had hurried immediately to London with his

prize, and sold it to Mr. Claridge of St. James Street, eminent as a

dealer in such objects. Mr. Claridge, recognizing the importance and value

of the article, lost no opportunity of making its existence known, and

very soon the Claudius Cameo, as it was at first usually called, was as

famous as any in the world. Many experts in ancient art examined it, and

several large bids were made for its purchase.



In the end it was bought by the Marquis of Stanway for five thousand

pounds for the purpose of presentation to the British Museum. The marquis

kept the cameo at his town house for a few days, showing it to his

friends, and then returned it to Mr. Claridge to be finally and carefully

cleaned before passing into the national collection. Two nights after Mr.

Claridge's premises were broken into and the cameo stolen.



Such, in outline, was the generally known history of the Stanway Cameo.

The circumstances of the burglary in detail were these: Mr. Claridge had

himself been the last to leave the premises at about eight in the evening,

at dusk, and had locked the small side door as usual. His assistant, Mr.

Cutler, had left an hour and a half earlier. When Mr. Claridge left,

everything was in order, and the policeman on fixed-point duty just

opposite, who bade Mr. Claridge good-evening as he left, saw nothing

suspicious during the rest of his term of duty, nor did his successors at

the point throughout the night.



In the morning, however, Mr. Cutler, the assistant, who arrived first,

soon after nine o'clock, at once perceived that something unlooked-for had

happened. The door, of which he had a key, was still fastened, and had not

been touched; but in the room behind the shop Mr. Claridge's private desk

had been broken open, and the contents turned out in confusion. The door

leading on to the staircase had also been forced. Proceeding up the

stairs, Mr. Cutler found another door open, leading from the top landing

to a small room; this door had been opened by the simple expedient of

unscrewing and taking off the lock, which had been on the inside. In the

ceiling of this room was a trap-door, and this was six or eight inches

open, the edge resting on the half-wrenched-off bolt, which had been torn

away when the trap was levered open from the outside.



Plainly, then, this was the path of the thief or thieves. Entrance had

been made through the trap-door, two more doors had been opened, and then

the desk had been ransacked. Mr. Cutler afterward explained that at this

time he had no precise idea what had been stolen, and did not know where

the cameo had been left on the previous evening. Mr. Claridge had himself

undertaken the cleaning, and had been engaged on it, the assistant said,

when he left.



There was no doubt, however, after Mr. Claridge's arrival at ten

o'clock--the cameo was gone. Mr. Claridge, utterly confounded at his loss,

explained incoherently, and with curses on his own carelessness, that he

had locked the precious article in his desk on relinquishing work on it

the previous evening, feeling rather tired, and not taking the trouble to

carry it as far as the safe in another part of the house.



The police were sent for at once, of course, and every investigation made,

Mr. Claridge offering a reward of five hundred pounds for the recovery of

the cameo. The affair was scribbled off at large in the earliest editions

of the evening papers, and by noon all the world was aware of the

extraordinary theft of the Stanway Cameo, and many people were discussing

the probabilities of the case, with very indistinct ideas of what a

sardonyx cameo precisely was.



It was in the afternoon of this day that Lord Stanway called on Martin

Hewitt. The marquis was a tall, upstanding man of spare figure and active

habits, well known as a member of learned societies and a great patron of

art. He hurried into Hewitt's private room as soon as his name had been

announced, and, as soon as Hewitt had given him a chair, plunged into

business.



"Probably you already guess my business with you, Mr. Hewitt--you have

seen the early evening papers? Just so; then I needn't tell you again what

you already know. My cameo is gone, and I badly want it back. Of course

the police are hard at work at Claridge's, but I'm not quite satisfied. I

have been there myself for two or three hours, and can't see that they

know any more about it than I do myself. Then, of course, the police,

naturally and properly enough from their point of view, look first to find

the criminal, regarding the recovery of the property almost as a secondary

consideration. Now, from my point of view, the chief consideration is

the property. Of course I want the thief caught, if possible, and properly

punished; but still more I want the cameo."



"Certainly it is a considerable loss. Five thousand pounds----"



"Ah, but don't misunderstand me! It isn't the monetary value of the thing

that I regret. As a matter of fact, I am indemnified for that already.

Claridge has behaved most honorably--more than honorably. Indeed, the

first intimation I had of the loss was a check from him for five thousand

pounds, with a letter assuring me that the restoration to me of the amount

I had paid was the least he could do to repair the result of what he

called his unpardonable carelessness. Legally, I'm not sure that I could

demand anything of him, unless I could prove very flagrant neglect indeed

to guard against theft."



"Then I take it, Lord Stanway," Hewitt observed, "that you much prefer the

cameo to the money?"



"Certainly. Else I should never have been willing to pay the money for the

cameo. It was an enormous price--perhaps much above the market value, even

for such a valuable thing--but I was particularly anxious that it should

not go out of the country. Our public collections here are not so

fortunate as they should be in the possession of the very finest examples

of that class of work. In short, I had determined on the cameo, and,

fortunately, happen to be able to carry out determinations of that sort

without regarding an extra thousand pounds or so as an obstacle. So that,

you see, what I want is not the value, but the thing itself. Indeed, I

don't think I can possibly keep the money Claridge has sent me; the affair

is more his misfortune than his fault. But I shall say nothing about

returning it for a little while; it may possibly have the effect of

sharpening everybody in the search."



"Just so. Do I understand that you would like me to look into the case

independently, on your behalf?"



"Exactly. I want you, if you can, to approach the matter entirely from my

point of view--your sole object being to find the cameo. Of course, if you

happen on the thief as well, so much the better. Perhaps, after all,

looking for the one is the same thing as looking for the other?"



"Not always; but usually it is, or course; even if they are not together,

they certainly have been at one time, and to have one is a very long

step toward having the other. Now, to begin with, is anybody suspected?"



"Well, the police are reserved, but I believe the fact is they've nothing

to say. Claridge won't admit that he suspects any one, though he believes

that whoever it was must have watched him yesterday evening through the

back window of his room, and must have seen him put the cameo away in his

desk; because the thief would seem to have gone straight to the place. But

I half fancy that, in his inner mind, he is inclined to suspect one of two

people. You see, a robbery of this sort is different from others. That

cameo would never be stolen, I imagine, with the view of its being

sold--it is much too famous a thing; a man might as well walk about

offering to sell the Tower of London. There are only a very few people who

buy such things, and every one of them knows all about it. No dealer would

touch it; he could never even show it, much less sell it, without being

called to account. So that it really seems more likely that it has been

taken by somebody who wishes to keep it for mere love of the thing--a

collector, in fact--who would then have to keep it secretly at home, and

never let a soul besides himself see it, living in the consciousness that

at his death it must be found and this theft known; unless, indeed, an

ordinary vulgar burglar has taken it without knowing its value."



"That isn't likely," Hewitt replied. "An ordinary burglar, ignorant of its

value, wouldn't have gone straight to the cameo and have taken it in

preference to many other things of more apparent worth, which must be

lying near in such a place as Claridge's."



"True--I suppose he wouldn't. Although the police seem to think that the

breaking in is clearly the work of a regular criminal--from the

jimmy-marks, you know, and so on."



"Well, but what of the two people you think Mr. Claridge suspects?"



"Of course I can't say that he does suspect them--I only fancied from his

tone that it might be possible; he himself insists that he can't, in

justice, suspect anybody. One of these men is Hahn, the traveling agent

who sold him the cameo. This man's character does not appear to be

absolutely irreproachable; no dealer trusts him very far. Of course

Claridge doesn't say what he paid him for the cameo; these dealers are

very reticent about their profits, which I believe are as often something

like five hundred per cent as not. But it seems Hahn bargained to have

something extra, depending on the amount Claridge could sell the carving

for. According to the appointment he should have turned up this morning,

but he hasn't been seen, and nobody seems to know exactly where he is."



"Yes; and the other person?"



"Well, I scarcely like mentioning him, because he is certainly a

gentleman, and I believe, in the ordinary way, quite incapable of anything

in the least degree dishonorable; although, of course, they say a

collector has no conscience in the matter of his own particular hobby, and

certainly Mr. Wollett is as keen a collector as any man alive. He lives in

chambers in the next turning past Claridge's premises--can, in fact, look

into Claridge's back windows if he likes. He examined the cameo several

times before I bought it, and made several high offers--appeared, in fact,

very anxious indeed to get it. After I had bought it he made, I

understand, some rather strong remarks about people like myself 'spoiling

the market' by paying extravagant prices, and altogether cut up 'crusty,'

as they say, at losing the specimen." Lord Stanway paused a few seconds,

and then went on: "I'm not sure that I ought to mention Mr. Woollett's

name for a moment in connection with such a matter; I am personally

perfectly certain that he is as incapable of anything like theft as

myself. But I am telling you all I know."





"Precisely. I can't know too much in a case like this. It can do no harm

if I know all about fifty innocent people, and may save me from the risk

of knowing nothing about the thief. Now, let me see: Mr. Wollett's rooms,

you say, are near Mr. Claridge's place of business? Is there any means of

communication between the roofs?"



"Yes, I am told that it is perfectly possible to get from one place to the

other by walking along the leads."



"Very good! Then, unless you can think of any other information that may

help me, I think, Lord Stanway, I will go at once and look at the place."



"Do, by all means. I think I'll come back with you. Somehow, I don't like

to feel idle in the matter, though I suppose I can't do much. As to more

information, I don't think there is any."



"In regard to Mr. Claridge's assistant, now: Do you know anything of him?"



"Only that he has always seemed a very civil and decent sort of man.

Honest, I should say, or Claridge wouldn't have kept him so many

years--there are a good many valuable things about at Claridge's. Besides,

the man has keys of the place himself, and, even if he were a thief, he

wouldn't need to go breaking in through the roof."



"So that," said Hewitt, "we have, directly connected with this cameo,

besides yourself, these people: Mr. Claridge, the dealer; Mr. Cutler, the

assistant in Mr. Claridge's business; Hahn, who sold the article to

Claridge, and Mr. Woollett, who made bids for it. These are all?"



"All that I know of. Other gentlemen made bids, I believe, but I don't

know them."



"Take these people in their order. Mr. Claridge is out of the question, as

a dealer with a reputation to keep up would be, even if he hadn't

immediately sent you this five thousand pounds--more than the market

value, I understand, of the cameo. The assistant is a reputable man,

against whom nothing is known, who would never need to break in, and who

must understand his business well enough to know that he could never

attempt to sell the missing stone without instant detection. Hahn is a man

of shady antecedents, probably clever enough to know as well as anybody

how to dispose of such plunder--if it be possible to dispose of it at all;

also, Hahn hasn't been to Claridge's to-day, although he had an

appointment to take money. Lastly, Mr. Woollett is a gentleman of the most

honorable record, but a perfectly rabid collector, who had made every

effort to secure the cameo before you bought it; who, moreover, could have

seen Mr. Claridge working in his back room, and who has perfectly easy

access to Mr. Claridge's roof. If we find it can't be none of these, then

we must look where circumstances indicate."



There was unwonted excitement at Mr. Claridge's place when Hewitt and his

client arrived. It was a dull old building, and in the windows there was

never more show than an odd blue china vase or two, or, mayhap, a few old

silver shoe-buckles and a curious small sword. Nine men out of ten would

have passed it without a glance; but the tenth at least would probably

know it for a place famous through the world for the number and value of

the old and curious objects of art that had passed through it.



On this day two or three loiterers, having heard of the robbery, extracted

what gratification they might from staring at nothing between the railings

guarding the windows. Within, Mr. Claridge, a brisk, stout, little old

man, was talking earnestly to a burly police-inspector in uniform, and Mr.

Cutler, who had seized the opportunity to attempt amateur detective work

on his own account, was groveling perseveringly about the floor, among old

porcelain and loose pieces of armor, in the futile hope of finding any

clue that the thieves might have considerately dropped.



Mr. Claridge came forward eagerly.



"The leather case has been found, I am pleased to be able to tell you,

Lord Stanway, since you left."



"Empty, of course?"



"Unfortunately, yes. It had evidently been thrown away by the thief behind

a chimney-stack a roof or two away, where the police have found it. But it

is a clue, of course."



"Ah, then this gentleman will give me his opinion of it," Lord Stanway

said, turning to Hewitt. "This, Mr. Claridge, is Mr. Martin Hewitt, who

has been kind enough to come with me here at a moment's notice. With the

police on the one hand and Mr. Hewitt on the other we shall certainly

recover that cameo, if it is to be recovered, I think."



Mr. Claridge bowed, and beamed on Hewitt through his spectacles. "I'm very

glad Mr. Hewitt has come," he said. "Indeed, I had already decided to give

the police till this time to-morrow, and then, if they had found nothing,

to call in Mr. Hewitt myself."



Hewitt bowed in his turn, and then asked: "Will you let me see the various

breakages? I hope they have not been disturbed."



"Nothing whatever has been disturbed. Do exactly as seems best. I need

scarcely say that everything here is perfectly at your disposal. You know

all the circumstances, of course?"



"In general, yes. I suppose I am right in the belief that you have no

resident housekeeper?"



"No," Claridge replied, "I haven't. I had one housekeeper who sometimes

pawned my property in the evening, and then another who used to break my

most valuable china, till I could never sleep or take a moment's ease at

home for fear my stock was being ruined here. So I gave up resident

housekeepers. I felt some confidence in doing it because of the policeman

who is always on duty opposite."



"Can I see the broken desk?"



Mr. Claridge led the way into the room behind the shop. The desk was

really a sort of work-table, with a lifting top and a lock. The top had

been forced roughly open by some instrument which had been pushed in below

it and used as a lever, so that the catch of the lock was torn away.

Hewitt examined the damaged parts and the marks of the lever, and then

looked out at the back window.



"There are several windows about here," he remarked, "from which it might

be possible to see into this room. Do you know any of the people who live

behind them?"



"Two or three I know," Mr. Claridge answered, "but there are two

windows--the pair almost immediately before us--belonging to a room or

office which is to let. Any stranger might get in there and watch."



"Do the roofs above any of those windows communicate in any way with

yours?"



"None of those directly opposite. Those at the left do; you may walk all

the way along the leads."



"And whose windows are they?"



Mr. Claridge hesitated. "Well," he said, "they're Mr. Woollett's, an

excellent customer of mine. But he's a gentleman, and--well, I really

think it's absurd to suspect him."



"In a case like this," Hewitt answered, "one must disregard nothing but

the impossible. Somebody--whether Mr. Woollett himself or another

person--could possibly have seen into this room from those windows, and

equally possibly could have reached this room from that one. Therefore we

must not forget Mr. Woollett. Have any of your neighbors been burgled

during the night? I mean that strangers anxious to get at your trap-door

would probably have to begin by getting into some other house close by, so

as to reach your roof."



"No," Mr. Claridge replied; "there has been nothing of that sort. It was

the first thing the police ascertained."



Hewitt examined the broken door and then made his way up the stairs with

the others. The unscrewed lock of the door of the top back-room required

little examination. In the room below the trap-door was a dusty table on

which stood a chair, and at the other side of the table sat

Detective-Inspector Plummer, whom Hewitt knew very well, and who bade him

"good-day" and then went on with his docket.



"This chair and table were found as they are now, I take it?" Hewitt

asked.



"Yes," said Mr. Claridge; "the thieves, I should think, dropped in through

the trap-door, after breaking it open, and had to place this chair where

it is to be able to climb back."



Hewitt scrambled up through the trap-way and examined it from the top. The

door was hung on long external barn-door hinges, and had been forced open

in a similar manner to that practiced on the desk. A jimmy had been pushed

between the frame and the door near the bolt, and the door had been pried

open, the bolt being torn away from the screws in the operation.



Presently Inspector Plummer, having finished his docket, climbed up to the

roof after Hewitt, and the two together went to the spot, close under a

chimney-stack on the next roof but one, where the case had been found.

Plummer produced the case, which he had in his coat-tail pocket, for

Hewitt's inspection.



"I don't see anything particular about it; do you?" he said. "It shows us

the way they went, though, being found just here."



"Well, yes," Hewitt said; "if we kept on in this direction, we should be

going toward Mr. Woollett's house, and his trap-door, shouldn't we!"



The inspector pursed his lips, smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. "Of

course we haven't waited till now to find that out," he said.



"No, of course. And, as you say, I didn't think there is much to be

learned from this leather case. It is almost new, and there isn't a mark

on it." And Hewitt handed it back to the inspector.



"Well," said Plummer, as he returned the case to his pocket, "what's your

opinion?"



"It's rather an awkward case."



"Yes, it is. Between ourselves--I don't mind telling you--I'm having a



sharp lookout kept over there"--Plummer jerked his head in the direction

of Mr. Woollett's chambers--"because the robbery's an unusual one. There's

only two possible motives--the sale of the cameo or the keeping of it. The

sale's out of the question, as you know; the thing's only salable to those

who would collar the thief at once, and who wouldn't have the thing in

their places now for anything. So that it must be taken to keep, and

that's a thing nobody but the maddest of collectors would do, just such

persons as--" and the inspector nodded again toward Mr. Woollett's

quarters. "Take that with the other circumstances," he added, "and I think

you'll agree it's worth while looking a little farther that way. Of course

some of the work--taking off the lock and so on--looks rather like a

regular burglar, but it's just possible that any one badly wanting the

cameo would like to hire a man who was up to the work."



"Yes, it's possible."



"Do you know anything of Hahn, the agent?" Plummer asked, a moment later.



"No, I don't. Have you found him yet?"



"I haven't yet, but I'm after him. I've found he was at Charing Cross a

day or two ago, booking a ticket for the Continent. That and his failing

to turn up to-day seem to make it worth while not to miss him if we can

help it. He isn't the sort of man that lets a chance of drawing a bit of

money go for nothing."



They returned to the room. "Well," said Lord Stanway, "what's the result

of the consultation? We've been waiting here very patiently, while you two

clever men have been discussing the matter on the roof."



On the wall just beneath the trap-door a very dusty old tall hat hung on a

peg. This Hewitt took down and examined very closely, smearing his fingers

with the dust from the inside lining. "Is this one of your valuable and

crusted old antiques?" he asked, with a smile, of Mr. Claridge.



"That's only an old hat that I used to keep here for use in bad weather,"

Mr. Claridge said, with some surprise at the question. "I haven't touched

it for a year or more."



"Oh, then it couldn't have been left here by your last night's visitor,"

Hewitt replied, carelessly replacing it on the hook. "You left here at

eight last night, I think?"



"Eight exactly--or within a minute or two."



"Just so. I think I'll look at the room on the opposite side of the

landing, if you'll let me."



"Certainly, if you'd like to," Claridge replied; "but they haven't been

there--it is exactly as it was left. Only a lumber-room, you see," he

concluded, flinging the door open.



A number of partly broken-up packing-cases littered about this room, with

much other rubbish. Hewitt took the lid of one of the newest-looking

packing-cases, and glanced at the address label. Then he turned to a rusty

old iron box that stood against a wall. "I should like to see behind

this," he said, tugging at it with his hands. "It is heavy and dirty. Is

there a small crowbar about the house, or some similar lever?"



Mr. Claridge shook his head. "Haven't such a thing in the place," he said.



"Never mind," Hewitt replied, "another time will do to shift that old box,

and perhaps, after all, there's little reason for moving it. I will just

walk round to the police-station, I think, and speak to the constables who

were on duty opposite during the night. I think, Lord Stanway, I have seen

all that is necessary here."



"I suppose," asked Mr. Claridge, "it is too soon yet to ask if you have

formed any theory in the matter?"



"Well--yes, it is," Hewitt answered. "But perhaps I may be able to

surprise you in an hour or two; but that I don't promise. By the by," he

added suddenly, "I suppose you're sure the trap-door was bolted last

night?"



"Certainly," Mr. Claridge answered, smiling. "Else how could the bolt have

been broken? As a matter of fact, I believe the trap hasn't been opened

for months. Mr. Cutler, do you remember when the trap-door was last

opened?"



Mr. Cutler shook his head. "Certainly not for six months," he said.



"Ah, very well; it's not very important," Hewitt replied.



As they reached the front shop a fiery-faced old gentleman bounced in at

the street door, stumbling over an umbrella that stood in a dark corner,

and kicking it three yards away.



"What the deuce do you mean," he roared at Mr. Claridge, "by sending these

police people smelling about my rooms and asking questions of my servants?

What do you mean, sir, by treating me as a thief? Can't a gentleman come

into this place to look at an article without being suspected of stealing

it, when it disappears through your wretched carelessness? I'll ask my

solicitor, sir, if there isn't a remedy for this sort of thing. And if I

catch another of your spy fellows on my staircase, or crawling about my

roof, I'll--I'll shoot him!"



"Really, Mr. Woollett----" began Mr. Claridge, somewhat abashed, but the

angry old man would hear nothing.



"Don't talk to me, sir; you shall talk to my solicitor. And am I to

understand, my lord"--turning to Lord Stanway--"that these things are

being done with your approval?"



"Whatever is being done," Lord Stanway answered, "is being done by the

police on their own responsibility, and entirely without prompting, I

believe, by Mr. Claridge--certainly without a suggestion of any sort from

myself. I think that the personal opinion of Mr. Claridge--certainly my

own--is that anything like a suspicion of your position in this wretched

matter is ridiculous. And if you will only consider the matter calmly----"



"Consider it calmly? Imagine yourself considering such a thing calmly,

Lord Stanway. I won't consider it calmly. I'll--I'll--I won't have it.

And if I find another man on my roof, I'll pitch him off!" And Mr.

Woollett bounced into the street again.



"Mr. Woollett is annoyed," Hewitt observed, with a smile. "I'm afraid

Plummer has a clumsy assistant somewhere."



Mr. Claridge said nothing, but looked rather glum, for Mr. Woollett was a

most excellent customer.



Lord Stanwood and Hewitt walked slowly down the street, Hewitt staring at

the pavement in profound thought. Once or twice Lord Stanway glanced at

his face, but refrained from disturbing him. Presently, however, he

observed: "You seem, at least, Mr. Hewitt, to have noticed something that

has set you thinking. Does it look like a clue?"



Hewitt came out of his cogitation at once. "A clue?" he said; "the case

bristles with clues. The extraordinary thing to me is that Plummer,

usually a smart man, doesn't seem to have seen one of them. He must be out

of sorts, I'm afraid. But the case is decidedly a most remarkable one."



"Remarkable in what particular way?"



"In regard to motive. Now it would seem, as Plummer was saying to me just

now on the roof, that there were only two possible motives for such a

robbery. Either the man who took all this trouble and risk to break into

Claridge's place must have desired to sell the cameo at a good price, or

he must have desired to keep it for himself, being a lover of such things.

But neither of these has been the actual motive."



"Perhaps he thinks he can extort a good sum from me by way of ransom?"



"No, it isn't that. Nor is it jealousy, nor spite, nor anything of that

kind. I know the motive, I think--but I wish we could get hold of Hahn.

I will shut myself up alone and turn it over in my mind for half an hour

presently."



"Meanwhile, what I want to know is, apart from all your professional

subtleties--which I confess I can't understand--can you get back the

cameo?"



"That," said Hewitt, stopping at the corner of the street, "I am rather

afraid I can not--nor anybody else. But I am pretty sure I know the

thief."



"Then surely that will lead you to the cameo?"



"It may, of course; but, then, it is just possible that by this evening

you may not want to have it back, after all."



Lord Stanway stared in amazement.



"Not want to have it back!" he exclaimed. "Why, of course I shall want to

have it back. I don't understand you in the least; you talk in conundrums.

Who is the thief you speak of?"



"I think, Lord Stanway," Hewitt said, "that perhaps I had better not say

until I have quite finished my inquiries, in case of mistakes. The case is

quite an extraordinary one, and of quite a different character from what

one would at first naturally imagine, and I must be very careful to guard

against the possibility of error. I have very little fear of a mistake,

however, and I hope I may wait on you in a few hours at Piccadilly with

news. I have only to see the policemen."



"Certainly, come whenever you please. But why see the policemen? They have

already most positively stated that they saw nothing whatever suspicious

in the house or near it."



"I shall not ask them anything at all about the house," Hewitt responded.

"I shall just have a little chat with them--about the weather." And with a

smiling bow he turned away, while Lord Stanway stood and gazed after him,

with an expression that implied a suspicion that his special detective was

making a fool of him.



* * * * *



In rather more than an hour Hewitt was back in Mr. Claridge's shop. "Mr.

Claridge," he said, "I think I must ask you one or two questions in

private. May I see you in your own room?"



They went there at once, and Hewitt, pulling a chair before the window,

sat down with his back to the light. The dealer shut the door, and sat

opposite him, with the light full in his face.



"Mr. Claridge," Hewitt proceeded slowly, "when did you first find that

Lord Stanway's cameo was a forgery?"



Claridge literally bounced in his chair. His face paled, but he managed to

stammer sharply: "What--what--what d'you mean? Forgery? Do you mean to say

I sell forgeries? Forgery? It wasn't a forgery!"



"Then," continued Hewitt in the same deliberate tone, watching the other's

face the while, "if it wasn't a forgery, why did you destroy it and burst

your trap-door and desk to imitate a burglary?"



The sweat stood thick on the dealer's face, and he gasped. But he

struggled hard to keep his faculties together, and ejaculated hoarsely:

"Destroy it? What--what--I didn't--didn't destroy it!"



"Threw it into the river, then--don't prevaricate about details."



"No--no--it's a lie! Who says that? Go away! You're insulting me!"

Claridge almost screamed.



"Come, come, Mr. Claridge," Hewitt said more placably, for he had gained

his point; "don't distress yourself, and don't attempt to deceive me--you

can't, I assure you. I know everything you did before you left here last

night--everything."



Claridge's face worked painfully. Once or twice he appeared to be on the

point of returning an indignant reply, but hesitated, and finally broke

down altogether.



"Don't expose me, Mr. Hewitt!" he pleaded; "I beg you won't expose me! I

haven't harmed a soul but myself. I've paid Lord Stanway every penny back,

and I never knew the thing was a forgery till I began to clean it. I'm an

old man, Mr. Hewitt, and my professional reputation has been spotless

until now. I beg you won't expose me."



Hewitt's voice softened. "Don't make an unnecessary trouble of it," he

said. "I see a decanter on your sideboard--let me give you a little brandy

and water. Come, there's nothing criminal, I believe, in a man's breaking

open his own desk, or his own trap-door, for that matter. Of course I'm

acting for Lord Stanway in this affair, and I must, in duty, report to him

without reserve. But Lord Stanway is a gentleman, and I'll undertake he'll

do nothing inconsiderate of your feelings, if you're disposed to be frank.

Let us talk the affair over; tell me about it."



"It was that swindler Hahn who deceived me in the beginning," Claridge

said. "I have never made a mistake with a cameo before, and I never

thought so close an imitation was possible. I examined it most carefully,

and was perfectly satisfied, and many experts examined it afterward, and

were all equally deceived. I felt as sure as I possibly could feel that I

had bought one of the finest, if not actually the finest, cameos known to

exist. It was not until after it had come back from Lord Stanway's, and I

was cleaning it the evening before last, that in course of my work it

became apparent that the thing was nothing but a consummately clever

forgery. It was made of three layers of molded glass, nothing more nor

less. But the glass was treated in a way I had never before known of, and

the surface had been cunningly worked on till it defied any ordinary

examination. Some of the glass imitation cameos made in the latter part of

the last century, I may tell you, are regarded as marvelous pieces of

work, and, indeed, command very fair prices, but this was something quite

beyond any of those.



"I was amazed and horrified. I put the thing away and went home. All that

night I lay awake in a state of distraction, quite unable to decide what

to do. To let the cameo go out of my possession was impossible. Sooner or

later the forgery would be discovered, and my reputation--the highest in

these matters in this country, I may safely claim, and the growth of

nearly fifty years of honest application and good judgment--this

reputation would be gone forever. But without considering this, there was

the fact that I had taken five thousand pounds of Lord Stanway's money for

a mere piece of glass, and that money I must, in mere common honesty as

well as for my own sake, return. But how? The name of the Stanway Cameo

had become a household word, and to confess that the whole thing was a

sham would ruin my reputation and destroy all confidence--past, present,

and future--in me and in my transactions. Either way spelled ruin. Even if

I confided in Lord Stanway privately, returned his money, and destroyed

the cameo, what then? The sudden disappearance of an article so famous

would excite remark at once. It had been presented to the British Museum,

and if it never appeared in that collection, and no news were to be got of

it, people would guess at the truth at once. To make it known that I

myself had been deceived would have availed nothing. It is my business

not to be deceived; and to have it known that my most expensive

specimens might be forgeries would equally mean ruin, whether I sold them

cunningly as a rogue or ignorantly as a fool. Indeed, my pride, my

reputation as a connoisseur, is a thing near to my heart, and it would be

an unspeakable humiliation to me to have it known that I had been imposed

on by such a forgery. What could I do? Every expedient seemed useless but

one--the one I adopted. It was not straightforward, I admit; but, oh! Mr.

Hewitt, consider the temptation--and remember that it couldn't do a soul

any harm. No matter who might be suspected, I knew there could not

possibly be evidence to make them suffer. All the next day--yesterday--I

was anxiously worrying out the thing in my mind and carefully devising

the--the trick, I'm afraid you'll call it, that you by some extraordinary

means have seen through. It seemed the only thing--what else was there?

More I needn't tell you; you know it. I have only now to beg that you will

use your best influence with Lord Stanway to save me from public derision

and exposure. I will do anything---pay anything--anything but exposure, at

my age, and with my position."



"Well, you see," Hewitt replied thoughtfully, "I've no doubt Lord Stanway

will show you every consideration, and certainly I will do what I can to

save you in the circumstances; though you must remember that you have

done some harm--you have caused suspicions to rest on at least one honest

man. But as to reputation, I've a professional reputation of my own. If I

help to conceal your professional failure, I shall appear to have failed

in my part of the business."



"But the cases are different, Mr. Hewitt. Consider. You are not

expected--it would be impossible--to succeed invariably; and there are

only two or three who know you have looked into the case. Then your other

conspicuous successes----"



"Well, well, we shall see. One thing I don't know, though--whether you

climbed out of a window to break open the trap-door, or whether you got up

through the trap-door itself and pulled the bolt with a string through the

jamb, so as to bolt it after you."



"There was no available window. I used the string, as you say. My poor

little cunning must seem very transparent to you, I fear. I spent hours of

thought over the question of the trap-door--how to break it open so as to

leave a genuine appearance, and especially how to bolt it inside after I

had reached the roof. I thought I had succeeded beyond the possibility of

suspicion; how you penetrated the device surpasses my comprehension. How,

to begin with, could you possibly know that the cameo was a forgery? Did

you ever see it?"



"Never. And, if I had seen it, I fear I should never have been able to

express an opinion on it; I'm not a connoisseur. As a matter of fact, I

didn't know that the thing was a forgery in the first place; what I knew

in the first place was that it was you who had broken into the house. It

was from that that I arrived at the conclusion, after a certain amount of

thought, that the cameo must have been forged. Gain was out of the

question. You, beyond all men, could never sell the Stanway Cameo again,

and, besides, you had paid back Lord Stanway's money. I knew enough of

your reputation to know that you would never incur the scandal of a great

theft at your place for the sake of getting the cameo for yourself, when

you might have kept it in the beginning, with no trouble and mystery.

Consequently I had to look for another motive, and at first another motive

seemed an impossibility. Why should you wish to take all this trouble to

lose five thousand pounds? You had nothing to gain; perhaps you had

something to save--your professional reputation, for instance. Looking at

it so, it was plain that you were suppressing the cameo--burking it;

since, once taken as you had taken it, it could never come to light again.

That suggested the solution of the mystery at once--you had discovered,

after the sale, that the cameo was not genuine."



"Yes, yes--I see; but you say you began with the knowledge that I broke

into the place myself. How did you know that? I can not imagine a

trace----"



"My dear sir, you left traces everywhere. In the first place, it struck me

as curious, before I came here, that you had sent off that check for five

thousand pounds to Lord Stanway an hour or so after the robbery was

discovered; it looked so much as though you were sure of the cameo never

coming back, and were in a hurry to avert suspicion. Of course I

understood that, so far as I then knew the case, you were the most

unlikely person in the world, and that your eagerness to repay Lord

Stanway might be the most creditable thing possible. But the point was

worth remembering, and I remembered it.



"When I came here, I saw suspicious indications in many directions, but

the conclusive piece of evidence was that old hat hanging below the

trap-door."



"But I never touched it; I assure you, Mr. Hewitt, I never touched the

hat; haven't touched it for months----"



"Of course. If you had touched it, I might never have got the clue. But

we'll deal with the hat presently; that wasn't what struck me at first.

The trap-door first took my attention. Consider, now: Here was a

trap-door, most insecurely hung on external hinges; the burglar had a

screwdriver, for he took off the door-lock below with it. Why, then,

didn't he take this trap off by the hinges, instead of making a noise and

taking longer time and trouble to burst the bolt from its fastenings? And

why, if he were a stranger, was he able to plant his jimmy from the

outside just exactly opposite the interior bolt? There was only one mark

on the frame, and that precisely in the proper place.



"After that I saw the leather case. It had not been thrown away, or some

corner would have shown signs of the fall. It had been put down carefully

where it was found. These things, however, were of small importance

compared with the hat. The hat, as you know, was exceedingly thick with

dust--the accumulation of months. But, on the top side, presented toward

the trap-door, were a score or so of raindrop marks. That was all. They

were new marks, for there was no dust over them; they had merely had time

to dry and cake the dust they had fallen on. Now, there had been no rain

since a sharp shower just after seven o'clock last night. At that time

you, by your own statement, were in the place. You left at eight, and the

rain was all over at ten minutes or a quarter past seven. The trap-door,

you also told me, had not been opened for months. The thing was plain.

You, or somebody who was here when you were, had opened that trap-door

during, or just before, that shower. I said little then, but went, as soon

as I had left, to the police-station. There I made perfectly certain that

there had been no rain during the night by questioning the policemen who

were on duty outside all the time. There had been none. I knew everything.



"The only other evidence there was pointed with all the rest. There were

no rain-marks on the leather case; it had been put on the roof as an

after-thought when there was no rain. A very poor after-thought, let me

tell you, for no thief would throw away a useful case that concealed his

booty and protected it from breakage, and throw it away just so as to

leave a clue as to what direction he had gone in. I also saw, in the

lumber-room, a number of packing-cases--one with a label dated two days

back--which had been opened with an iron lever; and yet, when I made an

excuse to ask for it, you said there was no such thing in the place.

Inference, you didn't want me to compare it with the marks on the desks

and doors. That is all, I think."



Mr. Claridge looked dolorously down at the floor. "I'm afraid," he said,

"that I took an unsuitable role when I undertook to rely on my wits to

deceive men like you. I thought there wasn't a single vulnerable spot in

my defense, but you walk calmly through it at the first attempt. Why did I

never think of those raindrops?"



"Come," said Hewitt, with a smile, "that sounds unrepentant. I am going,

now, to Lord Stanway's. If I were you, I think I should apologize to Mr.

Woollett in some way."



Lord Stanway, who, in the hour or two of reflection left him after parting

with Hewitt, had come to the belief that he had employed a man whose mind

was not always in order, received Hewitt's story with natural

astonishment. For some time he was in doubt as to whether he would be

doing right in acquiescing in anything but a straightforward public

statement of the facts connected with the disappearance of the cameo, but

in the end was persuaded to let the affair drop, on receiving an assurance

from Mr. Woollett that he unreservedly accepted the apology offered him by

Mr. Claridge.



As for the latter, he was at least sufficiently punished in loss of money

and personal humiliation for his escapade. But the bitterest and last blow

he sustained when the unblushing Hahn walked smilingly into his office two

days later to demand the extra payment agreed on in consideration of the

sale. He had been called suddenly away, he exclaimed, on the day he should

have come, and hoped his missing the appointment had occasioned no

inconvenience. As to the robbery of the cameo, of course he was very

sorry, but "pishness was pishness," and he would be glad of a check for

the sum agreed on. And the unhappy Claridge was obliged to pay it, knowing

that the man had swindled him, but unable to open his mouth to say so.



The reward remained on offer for a long time; indeed, it was never

publicly withdrawn, I believe, even at the time of Claridge's death. And

several intelligent newspapers enlarged upon the fact that an ordinary

burglar had completely baffled and defeated the boasted acumen of Mr.

Martin Hewitt, the well-known private detective.





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