by Bill Peschel
And Eustace paused as he drew out his handkerchief and mopped his perspiring face.
“Then you had it right with you when you burst into my office in Baker Street to tell me of the loss, and your nervous excitement at the time was a fake—you big stiff?” Holmes asked, blowing out a cloud of cigarette-smoke.
“Yes. I acknowledge with shame that I did. But it was that scoundrel Budd that burglarized His Lordship’s room and stole the jewels originally, and the coachman and myself are both simply receivers of stolen goods, not robbers. O Your Lordship, this is awful,” Eustace added, turning to the Earl. “I am a graduate and an honor man of Oxford University, as you know, and I surely must have been intoxicated when I let Budd entice me into his damnable scheme! The reason he took the jewels was because he had been losing heavily at cards in London recently, as he told me, and wanted to sell them to recoup his losses. I’ll swear I didn’t have a thing to do with the disappearance of the other nine cuff-buttons, because if I did, I’d tell you. That’s all.”
The Earl looked at Holmes sitting there puffing out smoke in a very dégagé attitude, with the smile of triumph still on his eagle-like face, in spite of his absurd disguise, then he looked at the confused and embarrassed Thorneycroft standing at one side of the table, anxiously rubbing his hands, then he looked at the red-faced Olaf standing near him, and finally he looked at me sitting in another chair, furnishing the calm and sober background for all this sensationalism—as usual.
“Well, by Jove, I hardly know what to say, and that’s the truth, Holmes,” he remarked at length; “but the fact that my recreant secretary has just now voluntarily coughed up the second cuff-button without trying to hide it again in his shoe, as he might have done, inclines me to let him live this time. So I’ll forgive you, Eustace, but don’t you ever let it happen again, or I might forget myself so far as to have you blackballed from all of the London clubs you belong to,” added the Earl, shaking his finger at Eustace.
“Thank you, Your Lordship, thank you!” cried the latter profusely, “I shall endeavor to deserve your consideration by doing my best to help you find the other cuff-buttons still missing.”
“Keep the change, Eustace,” said the Earl dryly. “Now, Holmes, what’ll we do with this little stiff over here?”
And he pointed to the still trembling coachman, who stood fumbling his cap in his hands.
“Why, he looks harmless enough,” commented Holmes; “I knew he didn’t have brains sufficient to plan the robbery, but was merely Billie Budd’s tool. So I think you might as well forgive him, too, Your Lordship, and thus get all the states’ evidence they can turn for us. Thorneycroft,” he added, turning to the secretary, “you accused Luigi Vermicelli, the Earl’s valet, of having stolen the cuff-buttons, and you there, Olaf, accused your stable-partner, Carol Linescu, of the theft. I shall give your statements due consideration, and lay for the accused parties accordingly. Now, Watson, we’ll get busy and see if we can’t recover some more of the cuff-buttons before luncheon. It’s only a little after nine now,” looking at his watch, “and we have nearly three hours left. And, by the way, I believe I made a bet of five pounds with Billie Budd yesterday morning that I would find some of the cuff-buttons that same day. He won the bet, since I didn’t find the heirlooms until to-day, but inasmuch as the aforesaid Budd is a fugitive from justice, I’ll just confiscate the stakes and call myself the winner! Doc, hand over those ten pounds you’ve been keeping there.”
I did so at once, glad to be relieved of the responsibility, and old Hemlock Holmes was about twenty-five dollars ahead by Budd’s disappearance, although still nine diamond cuff-buttons behind!
“You may go back to the stables now, Olaf,” said the Earl to the coachman; who beat it immediately, glad to get out of any further arraignment. “And you, Eustace, can get busy again with these darned bills we were auditing when Holmes came in with his news.”
He took up the two glittering baubles, put them in his pocket, and drew up his chair again to the table, while Eustace resumed his former seat.
“Oh, say! I nearly forgot. We must celebrate a little on this!” the Earl suddenly cried, as he pounded his fist on the table.
“Harrigan,” he called out, “bring up a bottle of my very best Burgundy, and set ’em up to Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson, in honor of the glad return of my ancestor’s historic cuff-buttons!”
The jovial butler seemed always to be within earshot whenever the Earl wanted him, and in a moment entered the library and ventured:
“The best Burgundy you have is the 1874 Beaune, Your Lordship. Shall I bring that?”
“Sure! P.D.Q.! I’m feeling a little dry again, anyhow,” said the Earl, as he winked at us, while the still somewhat embarrassed Thorneycroft looked out of the window at the birds singing their spring songs among the trees.
Harrigan left the room, and in a few minutes returned from the cellar with a long dark bottle that seemed to hold the ruby-red sparkles of the sunset on the hills of eastern France imprisoned in its depths. He uncorked it, and deftly poured out three glasses of the ancient wine, one of which the Earl took up in his hand while Holmes and I each took one of the remaining two.
“Eustace, I’ll have to cut you out of this, I’m sorry to say. Holmes, I drink to your swift and happy recovery of the other nine cuff-buttons. Prosit!”
At the welcome word of cheer we each put ourselves outside of the finest fermented grape-juice that had ever tickled my throat.
“Thanks. Now we’ll get down to business again,” said Holmes, full of renewed “pep,” as he set down his glass on the table and turned to me. “Doc, let’s go up to our room while I get this horrible suit of clothes off of me, and wash the red grease-paint off my face. Ta, ta, Your Lordship; see you later, with some more cuff-buttons, I expect.”
And we both left the library and went upstairs, where Holmes rapidly changed his clothes and washed off the make-up in the lavatory nearby. When he stood before me again in civilized habiliments, he began:
“Doc, I’m going to jump onto this man Vermicelli, the valet. My deductions lead me to believe that he has another one of the jewels stowed away somewhere, and it’s up to me to find it.”
So we left our room and went down the stairway, hot on the trail of the slippery valet from Venice. As we rounded the foot of the stairway at the second floor, halfway down to the main scene of operations, Holmes’s quick ear detected the sound of voices in a room nearby, though my slower ears couldn’t hear a thing.
He put his finger to his lips, took me by the arm, and quietly stole along the corridor with me to the half-open door whence the subdued voices proceeded. Arriving there, we halted, while Holmes cautiously listened a moment, then put his head in at the door and coughed. He pushed the door open immediately and walked in, with me at his heels, determined not to miss any of it, whatever it was.
Seated in a rocking-chair by the window was the elderly figure of the Countess’s bachelor uncle, J. Edmund Tooter, the retired tea and spice merchant from Hyderabad, India, holding his niece’s Spanish maid, Teresa Olivano, on his lap. As we entered so unceremoniously the two of them ceased their billing and cooing, hastily relaxed the half-Nelson grip they had on each other, and faced us with considerable resentment showing in their faces, though Teresa didn’t get off Tooter’s lap, as I thought she would.
“Well, what do you mean by this impudent intrusion, Holmes?” demanded Tooter angrily. “I guess a man can hold his affianced wife in his lap if he feels like it, without having a cheeky detective walk in on him.”
“Your what?” asked Holmes, with surprise.
“My affianced wife, I said. And it’s none of your business, either, any more than it is my niece’s, or the Earl’s. We had planned to elope and get married in London this afternoon, but I suppose now you’ll run around and tell everybody in sight what you know.”
Tooter whispered something to Teresa, whereupon she gave him a parting kiss, flounced off his lap, and passed ou
t of the room, with her head high in the air, her black eyes snapping, and saying something that sounded like: “Impertinent loafers!” as she passed us.
Uncle Tooter arose from the rocker and stood by the window, where he seemed to be trying to slide something from his left hand into his left trousers-pocket, his right side being turned to us.
Holmes noticed the act, as did I, but said nothing of it for the moment.
“Well, Tooter, by George, I’m surprised at you,” he commented sarcastically; “to think that at your advanced age—and you must be pretty well up in the fifties—you’d fall for the sweet-love-in-the-springtime stuff that gets the younger people, and that you’d engage yourself in marriage with a servant, too, and one who had previously refused you a couple of times. Of course, as you say, it’s none of my business, but I’m used to having people tell me that; and furthermore, it comes within the line of my duty to intrude my nose into other people’s business whenever I judge it to be warranted by the circumstances. Teresa has been accused by Natalie, the first chambermaid, of having stolen the diamond cuff-buttons—”
“Which is an infernal lie, and I can prove it!” shouted Tooter.
“And you have been accused inferentially by the Earl of possible guilt in connection with the theft also, owing to your occasional lapses from sobriety, which is rather a polite way of putting it,” went on the unperturbed Holmes. “By the way, I’ll just trouble you for that little package you slid into your left trousers-pocket there.”
Tooter flushed with embarrassment, and refused point-blank.
“Watson, lock the door, and put the key in your pocket!” yelled Holmes.
Chapter XII
I locked the door at once, put the key in my pocket, and then stood with my back up against it, while Holmes stood in the center of the room, facing the flushed and uncomfortable Tooter, who remained by the window, with his left hand clutching the mysterious little package in his pocket.
“Now then, Tooter, I’ve got the goods on you, both figuratively and literally, so you might as well come across with it,” urged Holmes. “I don’t want to resort to forcible methods unless I am compelled to.”
“I’m sorry, Holmes. I’d like to oblige you, but if this gets out about me carrying it around with me, I’m a goner.”
“I guess you will be a goner. The idea of a man of your standing stooping to such a trick as that! You can’t plead any lack of funds as an excuse for your regrettable error, either, as you are known to be well heeled.”
“But think of the resulting notoriety, Holmes. I could never again be received in the best circles of London society, and I’m sure the King would cut me dead!”
“Well, I suppose it would hurt your standing there, Tooter; but you’ve got to take the consequences of your act. You’re considerably old enough to know what you’re doing, you know. Come on, now, give it up peaceably, or I’ll forget myself and try jiu-jitsu on you.”
But Uncle Tooter still refused to give up the little package, and Holmes, losing his patience, walked over to him and grabbed his left arm, while Tooter doggedly tried to wriggle out of his grasp. In a moment, Holmes, by a quick turn of his wrist, had forced the little package out of Tooter’s hand, and it fell on the floor. Holmes immediately pounced on it, picked it up, and started to open it, but suddenly his jaw dropped, his face showed deep disappointment, and he angrily confronted Tooter.
“Say, what in thunder are you trying to pull off here, anyhow? This is a sample package of your confounded ‘Tooter’s Best Teas, Imported From Ceylon.’ It’s not one of the diamond cuff-buttons at all!” he cried.
“Well, who said it was, you elongated chump?” shouted the aroused Tooter. “I don’t know anything about the Earl’s cuff-buttons. You’ve been hanging around here nearly two days now, and you haven’t found any yet; and then you have the nerve to steal my tea sample!”
“Why, I just recovered two of the cuff-buttons a little while ago, one from Yensen, and one from Thorneycroft, and I supposed I was about to get back the third one from you,” replied Holmes in angry perplexity; “you certainly talked as if you had one of the stolen gems there in your hand. What did you mean by agreeing with me that it would seriously hurt your social standing, when all you were trying to conceal was a tea-packet, huh?”
“Because I’m not supposed to be ‘in trade,’ that’s why, Mr. Impudence. Any direct connection between myself and the tea industry, such as my bringing in this sample package to Teresa, so she could induce Louis the chef to use it in the castle, would at once bar me from further consideration as a retired gentleman by the London upper crust, into whose exclusive circles I have but recently wormed myself with such untiring pertinacity. Now, do you understand why I didn’t want to show you the little package?”
Holmes scowled at the tea sample, as he turned it over in his hand, and cursed softly under his breath as he replied:
“I don’t quite get you, Tooter. Everybody knows that you were born in obscurity, gradually worked your way up, and made all your money in the tea and spice business, so why in the deuce should they care if you take it into your head to be a salesman for your own teas at your nephew-in-law’s residence?”
Tooter sighed deeply, shrugged his shoulders, answered:
“Well, that’s the rigorous lesson I had to learn in the West End, Holmes. You are evidently not familiar with the customs and mental viewpoint of society people, or you would know that while it is permissible to acquire wealth by going out and working your head off for it, it is a most serious offense and an unforgivable faux pas if you are caught trying to drum up trade for your establishment after you have landed at the top of the social heap. You see, I am supposed to let my managers do that, while I confine myself to spending the coin that they make for me. I guess that’s explaining it about as well as it could be.”
And Tooter contemplated the scene outside the window, where the little green buds were just beginning to push themselves out on the tree limbs.
This explanation naturally didn’t soothe Holmes to any great extent, as he had always despised society people and their ways, and the sudden shock of the disappointment, coming just after he had so successfully recovered the first two cuff-buttons, made him lose his temper entirely, particularly as he looked around and noticed me grinning at his sour expression. As a result, both his paternal English and his maternal French completely failed him in giving an outlet to his feelings, and he started to swear in German.
As the longer and heavier words of Teutonic profanity came from his lips, I quietly unlocked the door, and motioning to Uncle Tooter, we both tiptoed out of the room and started downstairs, leaving Holmes to his devotions. As I went down the stairway toward the library the last thing I heard him say was: “Schweinhund!” which sounds pretty bad.
Tooter and I walked in on the Earl and his secretary, and told them of the bad break Holmes had just made, which caused the Earl to lie back in his chair and roar, though Tooter was more concerned about the social disgrace of having been caught with the tea sample.
The Earl was an easy-going and good-natured cuss, without the narrow prejudices of his snobbish friends, and readily promised not to tell anybody about it. He also simply grinned when Tooter told him that Teresa had just promised to marry him, and said his revered uncle-in-law would have to assume the job of telling his niece that she would have to find a new maid.
In a few minutes Holmes rejoined us as if nothing had happened, and we forbore from kidding him about it.
“Well, the next victim I am going to jump onto is your valet, Your Lordship, and I think I’m going to strike pay dirt this time,” were his first words. “Where is the rascal now?”
“He’s over in my room, sorting out my clothes,” said the Earl.
“All right. Come on, Watson, we’ll nail him before he gets away from the scene of his crime.”
Whereupon I accompanied Holmes across the corridor to the room back of the drawing-room, which was the Earl’s.
Luigi was in there, engaged in laying out several suits of clothes on the bed. He looked up in surprise as we entered.
“Ah, Luigi, you haven’t got any of the stolen cuff-buttons concealed up your sleeve there, have you? I would really hate to think that you had,” remarked Holmes, grinning sardonically.
On hearing this thinly-veiled accusation Vermicelli’s swarthy face got even blacker, if possible, than it generally was, and he snarled:
“No. I’m sick of hearing about them!”
“I’m afraid we can’t take your unsupported word for that, though, Luigi. We’ll have to frisk you. Now, then, stand still while Doc Watson goes through your pockets for the gems, or at least for some incriminating evidence.”
And Hemlock pulled out his trusty six-shooter and covered the valet.
The latter got so scared at the sudden gun-play that he fell backward on the bed, right over one of the Earl’s best suits, which made it easier for me to search him. I went through all his pockets without finding anything that we were after until I tapped his inside coat-pocket. Here I got hold of a small crumpled piece of paper, drew it out and read the following on it:
Dear Luigi: Meet me at Wuxley’s feed store in the village at five p. m. to-day, and we’ll go in to London and sell the pair of diamond cuff-buttons. Be on your guard against that Holmes fellow.
Demetrius.
“Ha, ha! Ha, ha! a couple of times!” chuckled Holmes, grabbing the note from me and eagerly glancing over it. “I can tell at once that this note was written by a man who thinks he is going to meet the Earl’s valet, but who is bound to be disappointed.”
“Well, will you let me go now? You’ve got the note,” said Vermicelli, with a scowl at Holmes’s gun, with which the detective still covered him.
“You don’t think I’m so soft as all that, do you? Let you go now, and thereby give you a chance to warn your Greek accomplice in the gardens that I’ve got his note? Not so that you could notice it, Luigi,” scoffed Holmes. “Up into your own room you go, behind lock and key, until after five o’clock, while I quietly don your light green clothes, and disguised as yourself, go down to the guilty rendezvous at Brother Wuxley’s feed store, and take the cuff-buttons away from him. I’ll have the cooks send you up something at noontime, so you won’t starve in the meanwhile. Now march.”
