The Diamond Master
Page 13
CHAPTER XIII
MR. CZENKI APPEARS
Half an hour later Mr. Birnes, Chief Arkwright and Detective SergeantConnelly were on a train, bound for Coaldale. Mr. Birnes had leftthem for a moment at the ferry and rushed into a telephone booth.When he came out he was exuberantly triumphant.
"It's my man, all right," he assured the chief. "He has been missingsince Friday night, and no one knows his whereabouts. It's my man."
It was an hour's ride to Coaldale, a sprawling, straggly villagewith only four or five houses in sight from the station. When thethree men left the train there, Mr. Birnes walked over and spoke tothe agent, a thin, cadaverous, tobacco-chewing specimen of hisspecies.
"We are looking for an old gentleman who lives out here somewhere,"he explained. "He probably lives alone, and we've been told that hehas a little cottage somewhere over this way."
He waved his hand vaguely to the right, in accordance with thedirections of Red Haney. The station agent scratched his stubblychin, and spat with great accuracy through a knot-hole ten feet away.
"'Spect you mean old man Kellner," he replied obligingly. "He livesby hisself part of the time; then again sometimes his grand-darterlives with him."
Granddaughter! Mr. Birnes almost jumped.
"A granddaughter, yes," he said with a forced calm. "Rather a prettygirl, twenty-two or three years old? Sometimes she dresses in blue?"
"Yes," the agent agreed. "'Spect them's them. Follow the road theretill you come to Widow Gardiner's hog-lot, then turn to your left,and it's about a quarter of a mile on. The only house up that way--you can't miss it."
The agent stood squinting at them, with friendly inquiry radiatingfrom his parchment-like countenance, and Mr. Birnes took anopportunity to ask some other questions.
"By the way, what sort of old man is this Mr. Kellner? What does hedo? Is he wealthy?"
A pleasant grin overspread his informant's face; one finger was raisedto his head and twirled significantly.
"'Spect he's crazy," he went on to explain. "Don't do nothing, sofar as nobody knows--lives like a hermit, stays in the house all thetime, and has long whiskers. Don't know whether he's rich or not,but 'spect he ain't becuz no man with money'd live like he does." Hethrust a long forefinger into Mr. Birnes' face. "And stingy! He'sso stingy he won't let nobody come in the house--scared they'll wearthe furniture out looking at it."
"How long has he lived here?"
"There ain't nobody in this town old enough to say. Why, mister,I'll bet that old man's a thousand years old. Wait'll you see him."
That was all. They went on as indicated.
"The very type of man who would scrimp and starve to put all hismoney in something like diamonds," mused Chief Arkwright. "The usualrich old miser who winds up by being murdered."
They passed the "Widow Gardiner's hog-lot" and came into a pleasantcountry road, which, turning, brought them to a shabby littlecottage, embowered in trees. Through the foliage, farther on, theycaught the amber gleam of a languid river; and around their feet, asthey entered the yard, scores of pigeons fluttered.
"Carriers!" ejaculated Mr. Birnes, as if startled.
With a strange feeling of elation the detective led the way up thesteps to the veranda and knocked. There was no answer. He glancedat the chief significantly, and tried the door. It was locked.
"Try the back door," directed Chief Arkwright tersely. "If that'slocked we'll go in anyway."
They passed around the house to the rear, and Mr. Birnes laid onehand upon the door-knob. He turned it and the door swung inward.Again he glanced at Chief Arkwright. The chief nodded, and led theway into the house. They stood in a kitchen, clean as to floors andtables, but now in the utmost disorder. They spent only a momenthere, then passed into the narrow hall, along this to a door thatstood open, and then--then Chief Arkwright paused, staring downward,and respectfully lifted his hat.
"Always the same," he remarked enigmatically.
Mr. Birnes thrust himself forward and through the door. On thefloor, with white face turned upward, and fixed, staring eyes, lay anold man. His venerable gray hair, long and unkempt, fell back from abrow of noble proportions, the wide, high brow of the student; and agreat, snow-white beard rippled down over his breast. Save for theglassiness of the eyes the face was placid in death, even as it musthave been in life.
Mutely Mr. Birnes examined the body. A blow in the back of thehead--that was all. Then he glanced around the room inquiringly.Everything was in order, except--except here lay an overturnedcigar-box. He picked it up; two uncut diamonds were on the floorbeneath it. The rough, inert pebbles silently attested the obviousmanner of death which simultaneously forced itself upon the threemen--the cowardly blow of an assassin, a dying struggle, perhaps,for the contents of the box, and this--the end!
From outside came sharply in the silence the rattle of wheels on thegravel of the road, and a vehicle stopped in front of the door.
"Sh-h-h-h!" warned the chief.
Some one came along the walk, up the steps and rapped briskly on thedoor; the detectives waited motionless, silent The knob rattledunder impatient fingers, then the footsteps passed along the verandaquickly, and were lost, as if some one had stepped off at the endintending to come to the back door, which was open. A moment laterthey heard steps in the kitchen, then in the narrow hall approaching,and the doorway of the room where they stood framed the figure of aman. It was Mr. Czenki.
"There's your man, Chief," remarked Mr. Birnes quietly.
The diamond expert permitted his gaze to wander from one to anotherof the three men, and then the beady black eyes came to rest on thesilent, outstretched figure of the old man. He started forwardimpulsively; the grip of Detective-Sergeant Connelly on his armstopped him.
"You're my prisoner!"
"Yes, I understand," said Mr. Czenki impatiently. He didn't evenlook up; he was still gazing at the figure on the floor.
"Well, what have you got to say for yourself?" demanded ChiefArkwright coldly.
Mr. Czenki met the accusing stare of the chief squarely for aninstant, then the keen eyes shifted to the slightly flushed face ofMr. Birnes and lingered there interrogatively.
"I have nothing whatever to say," he replied at last, and he drew onehand slowly across his thin, scarred face. "Yes, I understand," herepeated absently. "I have nothing to say."