THE BLACK TORTOISE

THE BLACK TORTOISE

Being the Strange Story of Old Frick's Diamond

BY

FREDERICK VILLER

AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION FROM THE NORWEGIAN BY GERTRUDE HUGHES BRAEKSTAD

GARDEN CITY NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 1914

COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.

CONTENTS

PART I

CHAPTER

Monk contemplates a Voyage to America

Old Frick

Mr. Reginald Howell

The Black Tortoise again

At the Police Station

A Morning Visit

Lawyer Jurgens

The Arrest

The Photograph

PART II

The Trial

The Photograph cannot lie

In the Dark

Monk's Examination

The Most Important Chapter in the Book. Clara acts the Detective

Old Frick Again

The Yacht *Deerhound*

PART I

THE BLACK TORTOISE

CHAPTER I

MONK CONTEMPLATES A VOYAGE TO AMERICA

"I am off to America on Friday next."

"What! off to America?"

"Yes; I'm not joking."

"Are you really serious? Fancy, going to America this time of the year, at the end of November! It must be very important business which takes you there! Can't you send some one else? You know Clara won't consider her firstborn properly baptized if you don't stand godfather to him. That ceremony is to take place next Sunday."

"Unfortunately it is important business—very important business—that only I can undertake. I am awfully sorry to disappoint your wife, but I must go."

This conversation took place in Monk's sitting-room. It was my usual habit, on leaving my office at seven o'clock, to go up to Monk's rooms and have a chat with him, and sometimes persuade him to come home with me.

I ought perhaps here to inform my readers that, some years before this story begins, I had returned to my native country after having spent several years abroad, where I had made a small competency as an engineer. When I again saw Monk, the friend of my boyhood, I found he had, strange to say, adopted the profession of private detective. As far as I could understand, he carried on this business just as much out of love for his work as for a means of earning his living, and had already won himself a reputation by his shrewdness, honesty, and disinterestedness.

Monk's sudden announcement took my breath away; he had never for a moment said a word about going to America before.

"Is it a new case you have on hand?" I asked.

"No; it is not a new case."

I looked doubtingly at him; this was not the Monk I was accustomed to see standing quietly before me with the handsome, open countenance, and the intelligent grey eyes looking fearlessly into mine.

He was now pacing restlessly up and down the floor. All at once he stopped in front of me.

"Can you stay with me this evening?"

"Yes; with pleasure," I replied. "Clara has gone to the theatre with a friend. I am therefore free, and it was my intention to propose to you that we should spend the evening together."

"That's right; let us have supper at once, for I have something to tell you, and until I have done so I shall have no peace."

Monk rang; and soon after we sat down to supper. My host ate scarcely anything; indeed, he hardly attended to his duties as host, and could not conceal his impatience to hasten the end of the meal.

It was quite apparent that something unusual was the matter, so I got through my supper as quickly as possible without interchanging many words.

When we returned again to the sitting-room, Monk placed me in one of his comfortable chairs, and set before me some whiskey and water and cigars. He himself lit a cigar, but soon threw it half-smoked into the fire.

"You said you wanted to speak to me about something, Monk."

"Yes; if you have patience to listen to me."

"Of course I have!"

A faint smile lit up Monk's dark countenance.

"I have put your patience to a severe test over and over again with my lectures on detective science, logic, deductions, and the like; but what I have in mind this evening is nothing of that sort. Do you feel inclined to hear a story about myself, the story of how it was I came to be the kind of man I am, and to lead the life I do?"

"My dear fellow," I answered, "I am more than ready to listen to you. Any one can see that sometime or another something has happened to you which has thrown a shadow over your existence; but, as you can understand, one does not ask one's friends about that sort of thing. One generally waits until one is approached."

"You are right, and I ought to have told you all about it long ago; especially as, for my part, I have nothing whatever to conceal. Yes, a man is wrong to shut himself up in himself more than is necessary; and in my case I am afraid I have been foolish, and doubly stupid, not to have called to my aid a clever friend's assistance. I have stared myself blind with trying to find a way out of the dark. It is, however, wrong of me to call the affair my affair, since I no longer play any part in it; but, in any case, it concerns some one who was as dear to me as my own life. Are you prepared to listen to me? If so, you shall get to know as much of my history as I know of it myself."

"Go on, Monk; go on! If an honest man and an intelligent woman can help you in any way, you have them at your disposal in Clara and myself."

I stretched out my hand to him; Monk seized it and shook it heartily. All doubt and restlessness on his side had vanished. In giving the account of his story, I only wish that I could have given it in his own clear language and striking words. To detail it in full is of course impossible; but I will do the best I can, and if the narrative should become tedious, or wanting in clearness, it is my fault, and not Monk's.

CHAPTER II

OLD FRICK

When we separated, about fifteen years ago (began Monk), that time you went to Zurich to complete your studies as engineer, I went in seriously for law, and was fortunate enough in four years' time to take my degree with honours.

My friends and teachers tried to persuade me to follow a scientific career. An endowment could have been had from the university; and with this, together with a small inheritance from my father, I could have followed without trouble the beaten path to a professorship at the university,—so I was told, at any rate.

But this was not to my mind; to have got free from the student's bench only to climb immediately to the dusty chair of a professor, seemed to me anything but attractive.

I first got a situation in the office of a government official, far up in the country, where there was little to do, but plenty of game and fishing; and I returned to Christiania the year after, a bearded, red-cheeked, young Nimrod.

Then I became the youngest inspector in the Christiania police office, and spent about two years in fining young men for disorderly conduct in the streets, and keeping order among the erratic female population of the town.

As you can well understand, it was hardly an occupation likely to attract a man for any length of time, and I explained this to our amiable chief superintendent when, one day, I placed my resignation on his desk.

"Stop a moment, my dear Monk," he said, with his genial smile. "Could you not wait a little, before you hand in this resignation? I must admit I have not found that you possess any special talent, either with regard to arresting drunken students, or as a censor of vice; still, on the other hand, I should be much deceived, after my many years of experience, if you do not find your right sphere in the detective department. Practically every one is aware that it is to you we owe our success in the great post office robbery, although officially you had nothing to do with it; and I, at any rate, know how well you cleared up the Fjorstat murder. For many months I have been thinking of offering you an appointment on the detective force. If you will take your resignation back, you can consider the matter as settled."

I gladly accepted the offer, but not until I had obtained a year's leave; a year which I spent abroad in travel, to study languages and life in the great countries.

I need hardly mention how useful my stay abroad has been to me.

I have no doubt that I found my right vocation when I joined the detective police; especially if I am to take into consideration the overwhelming praise which my superiors gradually poured upon me, or the flattering attention which the papers and the public began to bestow upon me.

Monk paused, and for a few minutes paced up and down the floor, as was his habit when he was deeply occupied in thought.

Well, he continued, I think I have now given you an account of my life until the day when the incident occurred which since has played such an important part in my life, and continues to do so to this very day.

It was a rainy and stormy night at the end of September, about seven years ago, when, wet to the skin, and dead beat, I came driving up to my lodgings in University Street. At that time I always had rooms on the ground floor, so that I could get in and out quickly and unobserved.

I had been on an expedition after some burglars high up on the Egeberg hills. The expedition had been long and irksome, both for myself and my assistants, and without result.

I always employ the same cabman—you remember Peter Lyverson, of course? Well, he had been waiting for us five hours in one of the small streets in the East end, and was just as disappointed at the lack of success and as wet as I was, so I thought it only right to ask him inside and give him a stiff glass of brandy.

Lyverson had just finished his glass, and with a profusion of thanks was lighting a cigar and bowing himself out, when we heard a ring at the telephone.

"Wait a moment," I cried to him, and rushed to the apparatus.

"Hello! are you Monk, the police detective?"

"Yes; who is it?"

"Bartholomew Frick of Drammen Road. Can you come out here at once? My house has been broken into. I thought that a man like you would prefer to be the first on the spot, and as quickly as possible!"

"All right, I will come."

It was not pleasant, for I was wet and tired; but business is business, and Bartholomew Frick was right in saying that I liked to be the first on the spot. Some minutes later the carriage was rolling along the deserted streets in the pouring rain toward Drammen Road.

I used the time, while we were on our way, to recall what I knew about "Old Frick."

Bartholomew or "Captain" Frick, as he was also called, had left Norway when quite a young man—somewhere between twenty and thirty years of age. For a generation or so no one heard anything of him, until suddenly he returned to his native country, an old man. This was some years before my story begins.

He came to Christiania, bringing with him a whole shipload of curiosities and costly articles, and was, on the whole, considered to be a very rich man.

His title of captain he presumably got from the fact that he had won his fortune, so people said, as captain of a pirate ship, and later on as a slave-dealer.

A more likely explanation, and one which carried with it a greater conviction of truth, was that he had acquired his fortune at gold washing in Australia, and diamond digging in Africa. He had, in both places, been one of the first to discover the rich treasures there.

On his return to Christiania he bought himself a large house in Drammen Road, and this he filled with the curiosities which he had collected and brought with him from all quarters of the globe.

After becoming settled, he began to look about him to make inquiries regarding his family, and he found that his only remaining relations were his brother's widow and two young children in needy circumstances.

Apparently in order to make some reparation for his earlier neglect, he overwhelmed the poor widow with benefactions, and brought the poor, weak soul to a state of great bewilderment by placing large, and to her notions fabulous, sums at her disposal.

After a short time she died, and Frick then adopted her two children, a boy and a girl, and it was generally assumed that they would inherit his wealth.

Old Frick was a well-known figure in Christiania, and had a widespread reputation for his riches, benevolence, and—irascibility.

The house is situated just outside Skillebek, as you must know. I should not wonder, however, if you have never seen him, although your house is not far from his property, for during the last few years old Frick has been confined to his house, an invalid, and he never shows himself outside of it. As it usually happens, the indifference of the world to him now is just as great as its interest in him and his affairs was at one time.

Presently, the carriage drew up before an iron gate, which was immediately opened by a man, the coachman of the house, with a lantern in his hand.

Words were unnecessary; he was prepared for my arrival, and I followed him immediately up to the house.

We went along a passage and passed one or two rooms, in the last of which stood some servants whispering together, until we came, at length, into a large room or salon which was lighted up.

This salon presented a motley appearance. Some of the furniture was old-fashioned, and some of it modern. There were tropical plants in large tubs; Venetian pier glasses on the walls, having between them large cases filled with wonders from all climes, and of all ages; stuffed animals in the middle of the room and in the corners. On a shelf stood some heavy altar candelabra from an old church, and from a neighbouring shelf hung a lamp, doubtless stolen from some Hindoo temple. On a bracket, opposite a clock worked by sand, a relic of the Middle Ages, ticked a splendid specimen of a modern Parisian timepiece. Indeed, I might go on forever enumerating the extraordinary and wonderful assortment of curiosities that met one's eye at every turn.

In spite of this conglomeration, the room was not unpleasant. My first impression—and later it proved to be correct—was that, though all these things had been brought together by Bartholomew Frick, they had been arranged by his niece.

At one end of the room only was there any noticeable disorder. There several chairs were overturned, a couple of cupboards stood wide open, and a window was entirely smashed, both glass and woodwork. The storm and rain, however, did not beat in, as this room lay to the leeward side of the house, and the cheerful fire in the grate at the other end of the room impressed one with a sense of warmth and comfort.

By the fireside sat old Frick in an armchair. On the mantelpiece before him lay a large American revolver, with brightly polished barrel, and leaning against his chair was an enormous Prussian cavalry sword.

The master of the house was clad in a large-patterned dressing-gown and slippers, and he got up at once when I came in.

At his side stood his brother's children, a fine young fellow with an honest face, and a very pretty young girl.

Old Frick himself could hardly be considered handsome. He had a large, fat, red face, with an enormous reddish-blue nose, white bushy hair, which stuck out in unkempt tufts, and a white, thick heard under his chin. His eyes were light, and generally friendly: but when he was angry, which not seldom happened, they changed into a kind of greenish colour, which was anything but pleasant to see.

Every human being is said to resemble some animal or another in appearance; Bartholomew Frick would not have done discredit to a Bengal tiger.

He came quickly across to me, and pressed my hand in his own large ones; they were of the fulness and size of a walrus's flippers. He was stout, broad, and thick-set, but moved about with youthful energy, although somewhat clumsily.

"Oh, are you here already, Mr. Monk? Glad to see you! It isn't more than twenty minutes since I rang you up through the telephone; that's smart work if you like! That's the thing, young man, promptitude above everything! It is the most important thing in the world. How do you think Napoleon managed to conquer the whole of Europe? What do you think it was that helped him? His promptitude, my friend, and nothing else. Don't talk to me of generalship or anything of that sort. He was smarter and quicker than every one else, and that's the reason he could do what he liked with them all.

"But now you must hear how it all happened with regard to the burglary—ah, you wink at me, Sigrid? I suppose you mean that I must first introduce you to Mr. Monk? Very well! This is my niece, Sigrid Frick, and that is my nephew, Einar Frick; both are the joy and stay of my old age. But now what about the—what are you now making signs about, Einar? I suppose you mean Mr. Monk should be asked to take a seat."

"And a glass of wine," whispered the young girl, casting a compassionate glance at my wet clothes.

"Yes, of course: Mr. Monk shall sit down and have everything he wants. But meanwhile I can in a few words tell him how it all happened."

Bartholomew Frick was, however, not a man of few words, and it took some time before I got to know how he had lain sleepless, kept awake by a "devilish unpleasant pain in his big toe," and so toward one o'clock had heard a strange sound in the room below,—for he slept just over the salon where we sat.

The old man had lost not a minute in getting out of bed; he had seized a loaded revolver, which always lay at hand on his table, and a sword, which was also within reach, both mementos, no doubt, of his adventurous life.

Thus armed, and with slippers on his feet, but with no other clothes on than his nightshirt, he had crept down the stairs and slowly opened the door of the salon.

Here he saw two men, who were quietly at work breaking open his cupboards and emptying their most valuable contents into a sack.

"I first of all fired two shots at their heads," continued Frick; "but when the smoke had lifted, I saw they were both as alive as ever, and on their way to the window to escape. I rushed after them with the sword, and they would not have got away alive if I had not stumbled over that confounded panther!" and he pointed to a large stuffed panther which lay overturned on its side in the middle of the room.

"But you might have killed them, uncle!" faltered the young girl, reproachfully.

"Yes, killed them! I only wish I had hacked them to sausage-meat! But just listen; now comes the most irritating part of all. Only one of the scoundrels could get out through the open window, for the one half has no hinges on it and does not open; so the other fellow, who evidently didn't think he had time to escape before I came up, disappeared head foremost, through both glass and framework. But he didn't get through quickly enough, for when I got away from the confounded panther, his left leg was still hanging inside the window ledge. 'You shan't take that with you, at any rate,' thought I, for now I was only a couple of yards from him, and the sword was just raised above my head, ready to strike, when, one of my feet caught in the jaw of the ice bear, and over I fell for the second time.

"Yes, you laugh! Perhaps you do not believe me? But I tell you, if that ice bear had not been in the way, I should have been able at this moment to place on the table before you the rascal's foot, and perhaps a bit of his leg as well. Here, you can see for yourself; the sword just cut off the heel with a bit of the sole, and more than that I could not manage; but another inch or two would have done it."

He triumphantly put before me a broad heel, with a bit of the sole attached, evidently cut from the boot with a powerful stroke.

"This was the only bit of the scoundrel that was left behind; the rest of him ran across the garden, over the railings, and out into the road. The revolver had also fallen from my grasp, or else I should have tried a couple more shots after them. I once shot a Zulu at seventy paces, with the same revolver; he had stolen a hen from me, the rascal!"

I didn't quite know what to think of such a bloodthirsty old man. But a certain humorous twinkle in his eyes gave me to understand that this was not genuine, and, as the young people didn't try to hide their merriment, we all three had a good laugh.

I afterward learned that old Frick suffered from many of the defects which are so often the outcome of a hard and adventurous life, such as he had led from his youth to old age: stubbornness, waywardness, and tyrannical contempt for the feelings of others when his own were aroused. Otherwise his heart was soft, and as good as gold.

It was plain to see that the burglary had not in the least ruffled his temper. On the contrary, he felt himself considerably enlivened with this reminder of a life which had been full of such scenes.

At last he finished his description of how the thieves had disappeared, the house had become aroused, and I telephoned for, etc., with the result known. But what he was especially proud about was that he had given orders that nothing should be touched or moved in the room after the burglary.

"I myself have been a policeman," he said. "I was sheriff in Ballarat for three years in succession, and I had charge of many investigations there. One thing I have learned by experience, and that is, that the place of a crime must remain untouched until the police arrive, otherwise it is impossible for them to get to work."

I thanked him for his thoughtfulness and presence of mind, which seemed to please him.

I have described this, my first meeting with old Frick, so fully, not because it is of any great importance to my story, but because it will, perhaps, give you some idea of the man and his characteristics.

Next I proceeded to examine the scene of the burglary. It was just as Frick had said, nothing had been touched or moved. Even the sack which the thieves had used to stow away their spoil in, lay there on the floor, just as they had flung it from them when they took to flight.

Several of the cupboards in the room had been filled with gold and silver articles, and precious stones. It was a complete museum; and the thieves had, so far, carried out a sensible plan in having broken open all the cupboards and drawers, but only putting into the bag the articles which were of the most value and the easiest of transport. Otherwise, there was little else to discover. We could follow the tracks of the thieves through the garden, over the palings, and out into Drammen Road; but they had left nothing behind them except old Frick's trophy, the heel with the bit of sole adhering, and the sack.

This was emptied, and the contents set in their places in the cupboards. Nothing seemed to be missing; and as each article was numbered, and the place in which it was to stand, it was an easy matter to control them.

Suddenly Miss Frick clasped her hands together, and exclaimed:—

"But the tortoise, uncle! the tortoise is gone!

"It is a precious gem we have given that name—a large diamond set in gold, and in the shape of a tortoise," she added, when she saw my puzzled expression.

"That is the most valuable of all my collection," continued Frick. "I don't know what the diamond can be worth when it is polished, but all I know is that I have been offered £2000 for it as it is now. It is black."

He raked about with his large fingers at the bottom of the sack, and finally turned it inside out, but there was no diamond tortoise. Then the room, and at last the garden, and the nearest part of Drammen Road were searched most carefully by aid of the lantern, but without result.

"How large was the tortoise?" I asked.

"It could at a pinch be hidden in the hollow of a man's hand,—say about two inches in diameter with the setting."

It was now nearly three o'clock in the morning. There was no more for me to do there, so I prepared to take my departure.

The old man began again to lament the loss of the diamond, and complained in the most energetic manner that he had not been able to shoot, or cut in two, the rascals who had robbed him.

"It would be stupid of me to promise anything," said I; "but, for my own part, I am pretty sure we shall have the birds caged before many days, and that we shall secure the diamond as well."

With these words, I took my departure, put the cut-off heel bits in my pocket, and went home.

My thoughts on the way were naturally taken up with what I had heard and seen at Bartholomew Frick's.

But, remarkably enough, it was the young girl, Miss Frick, upon whom my thoughts dwelt most of all. I had only heard her speak a few words, and this was the first time I had seen her face; but she attracted me strangely. I have never been of an impressionable nature, and no woman had ever had much of an attraction for me. So I was astonished to find how clearly her image stood out before me after the few hours we had been together. I already felt a strong desire to please her—a desire to do something which would compel her admiration.

You must, in any case, get the diamond back for her uncle, I thought; women naturally set value upon a detective's skill. It will at any rate please her uncle, and bring me into her society again.

I had at once noticed that the robbery at Frick's was of a simple and not very complicated kind; and though the matter from a professional stand-point had not interested me particularly, it had suddenly become invested with a new importance.

As soon as I arrived home, I hurriedly changed my wet clothes, made myself a cup of coffee over the spirit lamp, and then took out the piece of heel.

It was a broad, strong heel, with an iron rim round it, and entirely new, just like the sole. It did not seem to have belonged to the usual kind of cheap boots which our ordinary criminals are apt to patronize; at the same time it did not seem to have belonged to the better class of foot-gear. The heel somehow seemed to me to be familiar, a vague recollection of something set my brain to work.

Ah, suddenly I saw it all! The heel and sole belonged to the same sort of shoes, in fact they were a perfect match to a pair which had just helped the police to circumstantial evidence by an impression on soft soil in a similar case. It was the same kind of boot with which the prison society provides discharged prisoners, so that they shall not be entirely shoeless when they come out of prison.

One of the thieves must be a discharged prisoner, I went on reasoning. The boots are quite new; he must, therefore, have been just lately released,—in all probability yesterday morning. The burglary must have been planned and the necessary watch on the house undertaken by a confederate who, of course, must have been at large for some time previous.

Ten minutes later I stood in the anteroom to my office at the police station. It was not yet morning. The official on duty sat and dozed over the stove.

"Find out from the ledger, if any of our burglars have been discharged from jail in the course of the last two or three days," I asked.

It is, unfortunately, a fact, that a large majority of crime is committed by prisoners who have just been let out of jail, and we therefore carefully keep a register of those who are let loose.

In the meanwhile, I went into the guardroom and ordered two constables to follow me.

"Black John, the Throndhjemer, as you perhaps remember, sir, was discharged yesterday morning; I don't see any others.

"That's all right! find out where he hangs about when he is out."

"I know him well, sir. He generally puts up at 'Fat Bertha's,' she who has the coffee-house and lodgings for travellers up by Vaalerengen. But he often frequents the sheds in the brick fields and round about there."

I always had a trap in readiness at the police station, and in a quarter of an hour I, and two officers in plain clothes, stopped at a suitable distance from Fat Bertha's lodging-house.

Black John was not there, however, and we began to search among the brick ovens.

Daylight was just breaking when we came to the second oven, and the workmen were arriving with their tin cans in hand. Two men crept out on the other side and began to run across a ploughed field which adjoined one of the sheds.

We set off after them; but it seemed as if they had got too much of a start, and were likely to get away from us in the morning mist.

Suddenly one of them began to drop behind, and we soon had him between us. We let the other one get away for the time being.

The fellow we had got hold of swore and cursed, but otherwise made no resistance.

"If it hadn't been for that sore foot of mine, the police wouldn't have got me this time," he bawled.

We followed the direction of his look, and saw how his left foot had forced its way through the shoe, which was dragging about his ankle.

Black John's volubility did not deceive me. I kept a sharp eye on all his movements. While he, with a kind of raw good nature, joked with the constables, he slowly passed one hand behind him, and with a deft movement threw a small parcel some ten or twelve paces behind him.

"You had better leave tricks of that sort alone, Black John," I said in a friendly tone, stepping back and picking up a dirty little packet wrapped in a greasy piece of The Morning Post.

Inside three or four wrappers of the same sort I found the strangest object I had ever seen.

It was a large black diamond, of a flattened oval shape, tapering at the ends. It was set in a broad gold rim of the same form as the stone, and, to make its likeness to a tortoise more complete, a head was introduced, together with a little stumpy tail, and four knobs underneath, to represent feet,—all of gold. In the head shone two green precious stones for eyes.

"Oh, no; it won't be of much use to me, I can see," said Black John, resignedly. "I suppose I am in for another year or two."

He exhibited a subtle humour, while he tramped along to the town between the two policemen. The effects of just-from-prison libations did not seem quite to have left him.

"Ours is a hard sort of a profession, sir," he continued confidentially. "I think it's just as well to be a convict all one's life. Then one wouldn't get such frights at night. Such a one as I had last night!"

"Were you frightened, then, last night, in the Drammen Road?" I asked sympathetically.

"Frightened, indeed! What would you say, sir, if you were busy rooting about in a house at night, when you thought all was quiet and still, and an old ourang-outang in a shirt were suddenly to appear before you with a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other, firing away at you till the bullets whistled about your ears?"

In this kind of jocular strain he talked until we reached the town, where we parted.

* * * * *

It was half-past twelve, and the sun was shining brightly when I again rang the bell at old Frick's in the Drammen Road.

I had slept a few hours, handed in my report to the superintendent, and now I wanted to have the pleasure of giving old Frick his diamond back again.

I had taken a little more trouble than usual about my toilet; you can guess the reason why.

I was very pleased to find Miss Frick alone when I was ushered into the sitting-room. I thus had an opportunity of exchanging a few words with her; for when old Frick came in I knew only too well who would take up all the conversation.

She received me in a friendly manner, and when, without further ado, I showed her the diamond, she clapped her hands in joyful surprise.

"How glad uncle will be! When he once gets it back again he will look upon last night's affair as an exceedingly pleasant diversion. May I take it to him?"

"Yes, of course!"

"It was I who advised him to telephone to you in the night, Mr. Monk, and to-day I also assured him that you would be certain to find his tortoise again."

"It is a great pleasure, Miss Frick, to find you have such confidence in inc. May I ask how you got to know of my name?"

The young girl blushed a little. "We have often read about you in the papers, and Einar tells me there isn't a case which you cannot clear up."

"I must thank your brother for his flattering opinion, and I am indebted to the burglars of last night for giving me this opportunity of making your acquaintance and the acquaintance with your family."

"But you must excuse me a moment, Mr. Monk. I must hurry away and find uncle and give him the diamond. I haven't even told him you are here!"

She ran out of the room, and I looked after her, enraptured. She was even prettier by daylight than by lamplight. Light, reddish-golden hair, blue eyes, a straight nose, and a beautiful shapely mouth, yet not of the smallest. As for her figure, it was that of a veritable Diana as she vanished from the room.

I stood looking out of the window, when the door opened.

I turned round hastily, and at first I thought it was Miss Frick who had come back again. But the next moment I discovered that it was a young girl whom I had not seen before, who stood hesitating on the threshold.

She was also tall, fair, and slight, and with something of the same grace in her movements. Indeed, both in her movements and carriage she was wonderfully like Miss Frick. Nor was her face and especially the shape of her head unlike Miss Frick's, but her hair was much redder, her lips thinner, and her mouth more sharply moulded. Her eyes were certainly blue and pretty, but they wore a colder expression.

I thought at first it was Miss Frick's sister, but a glance at the small, coquettish, servant-maid's cap told me she held a different position in the house.

With an excuse she hurriedly left the room; she had thought Miss Frick was there.

Scarcely had she shut the door after her before Miss Frick again appeared, and as she saw perhaps that I looked a bit puzzled, she gave a low laugh and said:—

"You have seen my double, I suppose? She didn't know any one was here. All strangers are astonished at the likeness between Evelina and me. She is my lady's-maid."

"The likeness does not strike me as being so great," I answered; "do you think so yourself? I should never make such a mistake as taking her for you."

"Oh yes, indeed!" she replied; "at first it was almost unpleasant to me. Her father was, in his line, a well-to-do artisan, but things went badly with him, and he took to drink. The mother is not a very desirable person either, and so my uncle, who had known them many years, proposed that I should take the daughter as my maid."

It was a pleasure to me to talk with this pretty young girl. She was more natural and free from any affectation than any young woman I had met. It was easy to see she had plenty of common sense, and was well educated.

Mr. Frick did not tarry long. He came waddling in, clad in a large-checked, English pea-jacket, his full-blown face beaming like the sun. He was not satisfied this time with shaking one of my hands, but seized both in his gigantic paws. His praise of my skill was quite overwhelming and it was only by the greatest effort that I got him to change the subject.

After that followed an invitation to dinner at "Villa Ballarat," as he called the house. He would like to have a full description of how I had managed to discover the thieves.

This invitation clashed with my engagements that day, and I should have felt almost duty bound to refuse it, had I not happened to look at Miss Frick.

It appeared to me as if I could read something in her face which spoke of anxious expectation, and—I accepted the invitation.

The dinner went off very well. Old Frick told us how he had first become possessed of the tortoise; that, however, I will return to later.

Happily there was another person present who could listen to old Frick, while I had a much more interesting conversation with Miss Frick.

Young Einar, who seemed a fine young fellow, and whose occupation it was to keep his uncle's books and accounts, alone emptied a bottle of Pleidsieck monopole, and then stole away immediately after dinner with a good supply of his uncle's Havana cigars, to have a game of billiards at the Grand Hotel.

Before I left Villa Ballarat, I had another talk with old Frick, of a more serious nature. I represented to him how wrong it was to let so many costly articles as those he had gathered together, lie unprotected against thieves and burglars.

"You have seen yourself, Mr. Frick," I said, "how you tempt people to become housebreakers."

Old Frick showed himself for once amenable to advice.

"Come and see me to-morrow," he said; "I should like to have your opinion as to how I ought to arrange my things. The house here is becoming too small for me; I expect a guest in a few days. What do you say to my building a pavilion out in the garden, and arranging it specially as a museum or as a place of custody for all my curiosities? If I built the pavilion expressly for this purpose, I ought to be able to make it sufficiently proof against thieves. I could use iron safes, iron bars before the windows, electric-alarm apparatus, and suchlike. So long as I am well and able to move about, I can look after my things,—as you have seen I did last night; but when I get older, it will be more difficult. One cannot depend upon the young people in the house."

By sufficiently encouraging this plan of his, I got him to start the work, and within a month old Frick had a building constructed in the garden, about forty yards from the house. A building which should serve as a depository for all his collection, and at the same time give space for his office, and containing a fire-proof room for money and important documents.

This building will, later on, play a part in my story, and I shall therefore give a short description of it.

It was built nearly square, and divided into two. The whole of the one half was fitted up to receive Frick's collection. It formed a large room with no windows, but was lighted from above. Over the skylights were placed strong gilt iron bars to prevent entrance from above.

The heavy iron shutters, which, being painted white and lacquered, looked like innocent wooden boards, could be pulled down in front of the cases when the museum was closed.

These iron shutters were so well balanced with hidden counter weights that the weakest child could move them up or down. They could be locked with strong safety locks, of which Bartholomew Frick alone had the keys.

The other half of the house was partitioned into two, forming a larger and a smaller room. The larger did duty as Mr. Frick's office, and there his nephew took up his residence in the morning among the heap of business books. The smaller room, which, on account of the many feet thick, brick walls, gave very little inside space, served as a fire-proof room for money and documents.

This room had no windows, and only one very solid, double iron door, which led into the before-mentioned room used as the museum.

It had been made according to my suggestion; for I reasoned thus: The office is, as a matter of course, the least-protected room in the building. It has windows, and necessarily a good many strangers will be going in and out there. The safest thing is to let the one door to the fire-proof room, where Frick likes to keep a large sum of ready money, lead out into the museum. It is only frequented by the people of the house and guests, and at night it is more secure against burglary than the office.

All round the garden there was an iron railing, twice as high as a man, and people who were going to the house had to ring a bell at the iron gate.

At that time, when I made old Frick's acquaintance, he had invested a great deal of his money in various enterprises, mostly industrial undertakings, and especially such as would bring new trade and industry to the country.

He himself took no part in the management of these undertakings, and the work in his office was not more than could be managed by himself and his nephew.

It was not long before I was a regular and, as far as I could perceive, a welcome guest at the villa; indeed, all through the winter there was scarcely a day when I did not visit there.

Old Frick was never tired of asking me about news from the police courts; but I soon realized that it was not so much my stories that interested him, as the fact that for each of my stories, which I tried to make as short as possible, he found opportunity to treat us to two or three of his own, which always took a long time.

He was, however, an admirable story-teller, and we often sat by the hour together, listening to him with the greatest interest.

Generally the party was limited to old Frick, Sigrid, and myself. Einar was a gay young fellow, who spent a good deal of his time and his money with his companions, and he gave us but little of his society. Thus the three of us spent many pleasant evenings together.

CHAPTER III

MR. REGINALD HOWELL

Here was my first letter from Miss Frick:—

DEAR MR. MONK,—My uncle wants you to come and dine with us to-morrow at five o'clock. He is expecting an Englishman to-day, a son of one of his old Australian comrades, and would like you to make his acquaintance.

Yours,

SIGRID FRICK.

It was not a love letter, not even a friendly epistle, but quite the most conventional piece of writing one could receive; and yet it caused me great happiness when this note arrived, in the fine bold handwriting I got to know so well.

It was on a Saturday, a few days before Christmas. From the first day I had seen Sigrid Frick, until now, I had employed the time in falling in love as deplorably as ever a man can do, and I could see that my attentions were not displeasing to her. And so, as a matter of course, I accepted the invitation for dinner next day.

On my arrival at Villa Ballarat, I found old Frick beaming with delight.

"Here he is, Monk; here he is!—Reginald Howell, son of my old friend Howell, who was the best man and the most faithful friend in the whole world. I don't think my old friend, even when he was young, had such a fine appearance as his son, here; but his heart was as true as gold, and he was as reliable as a rock."

It would have been difficult for old Frick to get away from his reminiscences of old Howell, but luckily his niece recalled him to the present by intimating that he ought to introduce me to the young Englishman before he indulged in them further.

He was a tall, handsome young fellow, about my own age, and of the dark English type. His manners were easy and unaffected, as is usual with Englishmen of good birth.

There was nothing particularly attractive about his face, although he had fine eyes, somewhat dark, almost black, in fact, but without the fire in them that usually accompanies eyes of that colour. His manners were rather insinuating, though not at all unpleasant.

I gradually learned to like him fairly well.

At first, it happened that he threw many a tender glance at Miss Frick, and on that account I felt not a little inclined to quarrel with him. But as this was only a repetition of what had happened in the past two months with half a dozen other young men who visited Villa Ballarat, I was sensible enough to allow these feelings to have only a momentary hold upon me.

He soon kept his eyes to himself, probably because he saw "how the land lay," as the sailors have it.

One thing which, in a great measure, spoke in the young Englishman's favour, was his apparent modesty.

When his father died the year before,—he had until then lived in Australia,—the son decided to go to Europe, and he took his passage on a sailing ship. But the vessel had caught fire in the open sea, and the passengers and crew had had to take to the boats. Only one of the boats had reached land—the one in which Reginald Howell and eight others had saved themselves. But the boat foundered on a coral reef, and Mr. Howell at last found himself, the only survivor, on a little island. The natives were friendly to him, and after two months' stay there, he sighted a ship which brought him to England.

People seldom refuse to relate interesting stories when they concern themselves; but it was only after repeated appeals from old Frick that Mr. Howell was at last induced to give a very sober and curtailed description of his adventurous voyage.

It was easy to understand that he must have behaved very coolly and bravely under such terrible circumstances, and that it was only due to his presence of mind and courage that he was able to save himself, yet he seldom spoke of himself, and then always in the most modest manner possible.

In short, he had the habit, owing either to the way in which he had been brought up, or by nature, seldom or never of speaking about himself,—a habit which never fails to make a favourable impression.

When the young man came to England, he of course gave the authorities an exact account of the wreck of the Queen of the East, and the fate of the crew. The account had been published in several of the English papers, and he laughingly proffered to show us some of these papers if we found his verbal account not exhaustive enough.

Mr. Howell had come to Norway at the express invitation of old Frick, who, when he had heard of his old friend's death, had written and asked the son to visit him in Norway. The young man had received Frick's letter just when he was on the point of sailing from Australia—he had already arranged previously to visit Europe—and had notified his departure by telegraph.

"You did right, Reginald, in coming as quickly as possible to your father's old friend. I suppose you intend to spend the winter with us. You can learn to go on 'ski' here; a fine sport, I can tell you. You must live with us. I have had two rooms made ready for you here in Villa Ballarat."

Mr. Howell said he thought he would avail himself of the invitation for one or two months; he was a keen sportsman, and had long ago made up his mind to have a look at, and a try at, ski-running.

"That's right," cried old Frick, clinking his champagne glass against that of the Englishman. "The whole house and all that I possess is at the disposal of my old friend's son. After dinner you shall hear what I owe him. I don't suppose I need offer to assist you with any money, for in his last letter to me your father wrote that he would leave you everything he possessed, for your mother died when you were a little boy, and you were the only child. Your father was not so very rich, but I think he wrote something about £1200 a year."

"Yes, thereabouts," replied the young man, good-naturedly, and smiling at the kind old man's loquacity; "and that is more than enough for me."

"Then perhaps I had better strike out your name from my will; it has, until now, been standing beside those of Sigrid and Einar."

We all laughed heartily and rose from the table.

When we were drinking our coffee, and had lighted our cigars, old Frick began the story of his friendship with Howell the elder, and the adventures which had bound these two so closely together.

To tell the truth, I tried my best to slip away, hoping for a chat alone with Sigrid; but that couldn't be managed, and after having heard old Frick's story, I must confess that only a man in love could dream of anything more interesting than his account of it.

I should like to give it in all its detail, and in old Frick's words, but I cannot, and I must restrict myself to giving you the main points in his story.

Bartholomew Frick had left Norway and run away to sea in 1830; his desire for adventure and his dislike for the schoolroom had driven him to this.

For many years he roamed about in the great East, in India, South Africa, and Australia, sometimes as a sailor, and sometimes as a hunter and adventurer on shore.

Then, at the end of the forties, he found himself in Australia when the gold fever was just beginning to rage. Soon after, a party of three people started for Melbourne to proceed to the gold districts. One was Frick, who was the eldest of them, and two Englishmen, Howell and Davis.

The acquaintanceship of these three men—they were adventurers, but all of good family—was not of long standing; but it developed, in the course of the following year, into strong friendship and most faithful comradeship.

They led the usual life of gold diggers for many years, and sometimes, when they were lucky, they would go off to Melbourne and spend their money in a few days' time.

Having gone through many ups and downs in the course of seven years, they at last came across a rich find of gold, and realized a fortune in a couple of months.

The partnership was then dissolved. Howell, who was the quietest and most level-headed of them, bought a large piece of land and took to sheep farming. In this way he was able to preserve his fortune and even to add to it, although he had not been one of the most fortunate.

On the other hand, Frick and Davis did not think they had enough. The money they had made enabled them to carry out a plan which Frick had thought of, and which for a long time they had been anxious to carry out.

In the middle of the thirties Frick, when quite a young man, had been in South Africa. He then followed the settlers who trekked to the north across the Orange River, and who had joined in raids across the river Vaal, and still farther to the north.

When on these expeditions Frick himself had found diamonds, and had heard wonderful stories from the natives of the great quantities of these stones which were to be found in caverns of a peculiar formation, reminding one more of deserted mines than anything else.

Frick had obtained the report through a source which did not admit of doubt that there was at least some truth in it; and the location given with regard to the place seemed to be efficient. But he could not then get any companions to form an expedition, as the supposed place lay far away in the desert, blocked by wild and hostile negro tribes. Nor had he at that time the means to fit out an expedition by himself, and he was therefore obliged to give up all thoughts of it. These were the diamonds in search of which Frick and Davis decided to go.

"Davis seemed to me to be just the right sort of a man," remarked old Frick, when he had gone thus far in his narrative; "he was at least double as greedy about finding the diamonds as I."

Now that they were able, the two companions journeyed at once to the Cape, bought themselves an excellent outfit, and hired people sufficient for a large expedition.

The money which they did not spend on the outfit they sent to the bank in London.

It was Davis who managed all that; he was the most businesslike of the two.

This expedition got as far as the Vaal, but did not return, and this is how it happened.

When they had got so far that, according to Frick's and Davis's calculations, they should be only a day's journey from the diamond caves, they let the natives, with the ox wagons, camp, while they themselves continued their journey alone.

They were lucky enough to find what Frick maintained must have been Solomon's deserted mines, and they filled a whole sack with diamonds. But when they reached the camp they found it had been plundered, and all the members of the expedition killed by a hostile negro tribe.

Frick and Davis were also captured after a hard struggle.

In the night Davis, who was uninjured, succeeded in escaping, but Frick, who had received an arrow in his thigh, could not follow him.

Davis, with Frick's consent, took with him the bag of diamonds, and promised immediately on reaching civilization to prepare a new expedition for the release of Frick.

In the meantime, the blacks dragged him with them farther and farther inland, where it was impossible for him to think of flight, and so he lived with them for three years.

At last a gang of European pioneers turned up far in the interior of the dark continent where the tribe lived, and before the blacks had thought of keeping guard on Frick, he had joined the whites and followed them to their own settlements.

In all probability the blacks had, after such a long time, come to look upon Frick as one of themselves.

When Frick reached civilization the first thing he did was to ask after his friend Davis.

Yes, he had returned safely to the Cape Colony, but had not mentioned a word about any relief expedition for Frick. On the contrary, he had given out that Frick was dead, and had gone straight to England. He had mentioned that he had some diamonds with him, but he had not shown them to any one.

Frick was not very well pleased with this information, as you can imagine. He still had a few small diamonds with him, which he had found during his stay among the blacks. These he sold for a couple of hundred pounds, and set out for England to find Davis.

Here he discovered that the latter had drawn all the money out of the bank, had sold all the diamonds, and having bought a large country estate, was now living, a landed proprietor, in Yorkshire. Frick set off to visit Davis at his country house, but was not even allowed to enter. Davis refused to deliver up any part whatsoever of the money that had been deposited in the bank, or any of that which he had received from the sale of the diamonds.

When Frick became furious and tried to force his way in to the scoundrel, he was turned away by the servants.

Frick then applied to the police, but they advised him to take legal proceedings. He would have to engage a lawyer in order to proceed against his old comrade.

It was not a difficult matter to find a lawyer, or even lawyers, but none of them would take up the case unless Frick would guarantee them their fees and expenses first. Davis was rich and powerful, and would naturally use all the weapons with which the English law so lavishly favours those who have few scruples and plenty of money.

Frick raged awhile like a lion in a cage, but happily he pulled himself together and shipped to Australia before he had become quite "mad from anger," as he expressed it himself.

In Australia he was well received by the third member of the late partnership, and when Howell got to learn of the story, he became just as furious over Davis's rascality as Frick himself. It was, however, an unfortunate period with Howell. His farm had just been visited by a huge flood, and the larger part of his flock of sheep had been drowned.

But Howell did not give in. He would not hear of Frick's remonstrances, but raised, with much difficulty, a loan of £5000 on his property. This money he forced upon Frick, and when the latter saw that his friend would not listen to reason, he no longer hesitated, but went back to England with the money.

There was now no difficulty in getting the affair taken up. A clever lawyer was engaged, and the case against Davis was carried on with all possible despatch.

Frick himself thought he should never succeed in bringing him to bay. Davis had understood how to make use of the time to guard himself well, and had employed all means to delay the case.

Frick's £5000 was fast disappearing, when his lawyer was fortunate enough to discover some dark doings in Davis's life before the time when Frick had learnt to know him.

These doings were of such a character that Davis, who in the meantime had been elected M.P. for his county, had to, at any price, prevent them being made public. He was therefore obliged to agree to a compromise, and to pay Frick half of what he was worth, which, after all, was only what was Frick's due.

"In the end, I got such a good hold of the rascal," continued old Frick, "that he not only offered to pay all I asked for, but he even wrote me a humble letter, and begged me, for God's sake, not to make the affair public. 'It would completely ruin him,' he wrote.

"As Davis had invested all the cash in his estate, it was difficult to get ready money. But the affair was at last settled, and I have not told the story to any one. I did not give any promise to this effect, but it's just as well that you, who have now heard it, also keep it quiet. If it can help the scoundrel to repent of his sins in peace and comfort for the rest of his days, it is no doubt the best.

"It was not possible to get your father, Mr. Reginald, to accept anything more than the £5000 he had lent me, although I was now much richer than he. No, he was as proud as Lucifer, just as proud as he was faithful."

With the exception of Mr. Howell, we had all listened with the greatest interest to old Frick's long story. In spite of Mr. Howell's good manners, his impatience had several times been noticeable, even to the story-teller himself.

The latter remarked: "Yes, you have, of course, heard the story several times before from your father, Reginald; so for your sake it was hardly necessary to tell it. But I am anxious that those who stand nearest to me in the world should know what a friend your father was to me."

Mr. Howell smiled, somewhat embarrassed; "Yes, of course, I have heard the story from my father two or three times. But you can understand he did not lay so much stress upon the help he gave you. It was no more, he said, than a man's duty to a friend; and that's what I think also."

"He is his father's son!" exclaimed old Frick, and was not satisfied until he had seized the Englishman's hand and shaken it vigorously, although the latter modestly tried to avoid it.

"Did you ever hear anything later about Davis?" he asked after a pause.

"No, not much!" answered old Frick. "He was already married when I took proceedings against him, but I don't think it was a very happy marriage; his wife took care to see that a good deal of the punishment he so well deserved was carried out. Later on, I also heard that he had much trouble in managing his large property, after he had been obliged to take out so much capital. Ah, well, that's his own lookout; we have, thank God, something else to talk about than that scoundrel. One thing, however, I forgot to mention, is, that when Davis was forced to pay me back half the money, I took the black diamond in its present setting, the one we call 'the tortoise.' I took that over for £2000, which would be about its value in its uncut condition. We found it, just as it is, up in Solomon's mines. It was the only one of the diamonds that Davis had not sold."

CHAPTER IV

THE BLACK TORTOISE AGAIN

I have little to relate about the months which followed after that Sunday at Mr. Frick's.

Young Mr. Howell still lived in the house; he took a fancy to "ski" sport, and learnt it in a surprisingly short time.

He accepted Frick's pressing invitation to remain in Christiania till the summer, when he intended visiting Finland and Spitsbergen.

Einar Frick and Reginald Howell became good friends, in spite of the difference in age, much to the satisfaction of old Frick. They were always together, and I fancy old Frick was not very strict during this time with regard to his nephew's office hours.

A detective, however, incidentally gets to know a good many things, and I soon discovered that the two young men did not always pursue the most innocent pleasures. Even in Christiania, there are always to be found at least a dozen young good-for-nothings, who have plenty of money and nothing to do. Einar and Mr. Reginald became regular visitors in this circle, where later it became the fashion to gamble, and not for very low stakes, either.

I became uneasy about this, and one day I spoke to Einar and gave him a serious warning.

By the young man's blushing and frank confession, I saw that he had not as yet entirely fallen a victim to evil influence. Besides, he added that he had latterly had more pocket money from his uncle, and didn't play higher than he could afford. Mr. Howell had several times prevented him from playing for high stakes. He also promised to withdraw altogether from the gambling circle, which Mr. Howell had said he also was inclined to do.

This reassured me, and on the whole I must confess that Mr. Howell's behaviour was in every respect that of a gentleman. That I, in spite of this, entertained a shadow of antipathy or suspicion about him, is one of those things which cannot be explained.

One thing I cannot pass over in my story: one fine day, when I summoned up courage and put the all-important question to Miss Frick, I received as satisfactory an answer as any man could wish.

She desired that we should, for a time, keep our engagement secret, for she shrunk from telling her uncle, who would scarcely take the prospect of losing her with composure. Old Frick was remarkably fond of his brother's children. The old man had lived his life for many years without having felt the sunshine of tenderness other than that of comradeship; now he seemed to be making up for it in the fond relations between him and the two young people who were tied to him by the ties of blood as well as by those of gratitude.

I have, all the same, a suspicion that the old fox had an idea of what had passed between Sigrid and me; and at the same time, I also think that I had been fortunate enough to win his respect, so that if he were to lose his niece, he would rather have given her to me than to any one else.

* * * * *

It was the tenth of May, and a beautiful day; the spring had come unusually early that year, and the trees were already covered with leaves.

My work was finished. It had been a long and troublesome day, and I was just standing in my room, wondering if, as a reward, I should give myself an evening off and spend it at Villa Ballarat. I had not had time to visit Sigrid for several days.

Just then I heard the telephone bell.

"Hello! is that you, Monk?"

It was old Frick's voice; I knew it well; it was the same voice that, eight months ago, had asked me for the first time to come to Villa Ballarat.

"Yes, it is I."

"Can you come out here at once? Something has happened!"

"I shall be with you in ten minutes."

At St. Olaf's Place I took a carriage; I didn't want to lose a minute.

An uncomfortable feeling possessed me that some misfortune was pending, or had already occurred. I do not know if one can really have a presentiment without some material cause; in this case the feeling had sufficient ground by old Frick's abrupt message.

At the outer gate stood Frick himself, holding it open for me. He locked the gate carefully after us, stuck the key in his pocket, and then said, as he stopped in front of me, with his hands in his pockets:—

"The black tortoise is gone again!"

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone! Stolen, I say," and he raised his voice.

I asked him not to speak so loudly and to explain the matter. It was a relief for me to hear that it was nothing worse. Little did I suspect that anything worse could have happened.

"There is no one about who can hear us," said Frick. "It is as I say; the black tortoise has been stolen again, and within the last few hours. Since five o'clock."

I looked at my watch; it was exactly twenty-five minutes to eight.

"How can you be sure it happened after five o'clock? Didn't the black tortoise lie in the case with the iron shutters, in the museum?"

"Yes, of course; but now you shall hear. Old Jurgens, the lawyer, you know him, of course? He who has that collection of curios, the old idiot! Well, he dined with us, and afterward we drank our coffee out in the museum, as we often do. At five o'clock Jurgens left, and we all went over to the house. For some reason, as I shall presently explain, I forgot to lock the door of the museum and cupboard. In about half an hour's time I suddenly remembered this. I then had a look into the cupboards before I locked them, and so discovered that the tortoise was gone."

"Are you sure it was there at five o'clock?"

"Yes; we had been looking at it just before we all left the museum; I was the last who went out, and I had put it in its place before I left."

"Have you told any one that the tortoise is gone?"

"No; the first thing I did when I was sure of what had happened was to telephone to you; since then I have watched and seen that no one has gone in or out of the gate."

A long life rich in changes and events had taught this old man expediency and presence of mind.

He had done just the right thing, and his information and answers were clearer than nine-tenths of those which detectives are accustomed to get under similar conditions.

"Is Miss Sigrid, or your nephew, at home?"

"No, Einar went to Hamburg on business for me the day before yesterday; he will be there about a week, and Sigrid went for a walk about half an hour ago. It was while accompanying her to the gate that I came to remember the door of the museum wasn't locked."

"Haven't you missed anything else in the museum but the tortoise?"

"Not so far as I can see; in any case, there are still a number of small and costly articles which would be much easier to turn into ready money than the tortoise. It could not have been any ordinary thief, or if so, it must have been an unusually stupid one!"

"Has the black tortoise any special value to you or to any one else apart from the worth of the gold and the stone?"

"No, that I can gladly swear! You mean, I suppose, is there anything about this diamond, as one reads of in the English detective stories, where black and yellow people sneak about with daggers in their belts and vengeance in their eyes! No! there is nothing of that kind in this case. We found it in the cavern, as I told you, together with all the other diamonds. Man had not set foot there for thousands of years; and the negroes who live thereabouts do not care a fig for diamonds. For that reason they let Davis keep the bag, which he took with him when he escaped in the night. It is only when negroes have learned to know the blessing of civilization that they get a taste for diamonds."

"One thing must be done," I said, "while it is yet light. Will you take care that no one passes in or out through the gate, while I meanwhile find out if any one has got into the garden over the railing?"

As already mentioned, the whole of Frick's property, which was about three or four acres and laid out in a garden, was closed in by a high iron railing.

The distance between the rails was so little that even a child could not squeeze himself through. It was not altogether improbable, though difficult enough, that a daring and agile man might have climbed over the railings, notwithstanding the spikes.

It was, however, easy to find out if any one had got over in that way. It had lately rained a good deal, and the ground on either side of the railing was soft. Any footstep would therefore leave a trace, especially on the outer side, where there was a newly ploughed field.

I went all round the garden; no one had come that way.

Old Frick was patrolling to and fro at the gate, when I returned.

"Nobody has got over the fence to-day," said I.

"No," he answered thoughtfully; "that has been my belief the whole time. I fear that we must have thieves in the house,—but here comes Sigrid!"

He was quite right, for there was the dear girl walking at a rapid pace toward the gate.

A warm blush overspread her face when she saw me, but it disappeared quickly, and I noticed she looked very pale and fatigued.

We opened the gate for her, and I gave a sign, to Frick that I wished first to speak with her.

I went up to her, took her hand, and whispered some words which had nothing to do with the theft. Then, as we came nearer her uncle, I remarked aloud and as carelessly as possible:—

"Your uncle cannot find the black tortoise; he thinks he must have mislaid it in some place or another."

I said this purposely to arouse her attention, in case the diamond really had been mislaid. I was afraid that if I mentioned at once that it might have been stolen, she would have become too excited to think quietly over the matter.

"But, dear me, isn't it in the cupboard? I myself saw you put it in its place before we followed Mr. Jurgens through the garden."

I could not help noticing that Sigrid spoke in a very absent-minded manner; she looked fagged out, like a person who had gone through some physical or mental exertion.

We told her not to mention anything for the present to the servants about the disappearance of the diamond, and then she left us and went into the house. It struck me as remarkable that the affair should interest her so little.

The next thing I did was to telephone to the police station, and order two of my men to come out immediately to Villa Ballarat. I then asked old Frick to take a walk with me in the garden until they arrived; in this way we could see that nobody went in or out of the house without our knowledge.

"Where is Mr. Howell?" I asked. I suddenly began to wonder why I had not seen or heard anything of this gentleman.

"Oh, he went by rail to Osterdalen this afternoon. He was invited by a man called Varingson, I think, who owns large forests up there. They are going to shoot capercailzie; it is only four days, I think he said, before close time begins."

"What time in the afternoon did he go?"

"He had sent his luggage down to the station before mid-day; but the train was not going before six or seven. We can hear from Iverson when he left. Besides, you know, everybody goes and comes as they like in this house."

Iverson was Frick's trusted man; he was formerly a sergeant in the army, an unusually trustworthy and clever fellow, whom Frick had taken into his service at my recommendation. He was generally known as the gardener, but he took his turn as gatekeeper, and with the coachman he kept the yard in order; was joiner, smith, and many other things, and received from old Frick a very liberal salary. Both he and the coachman were unmarried; they lived in quite a small lodge near the gate, but had their meals up at the house.

In the meantime my two men arrived at the gate, and I gave them my instructions. One of them was to keep watch outside the villa and arrange that he should be relieved, so that the house and garden should not be unwatched. If the diamond was still within the iron railings, the thief would at once try to get it out of the house.

The other constable got orders to instruct pawnbrokers and all others to whom the diamond might be offered that, should this occur, they must inform the police without loss of time, and that the person bringing it must be followed and watched.

At supper I received a long detailed account from old Frick and Sigrid of all that occurred in the house that day. Their statement as to time, etc., corroborated exactly. Sigrid had, however, a bad headache, and looked very poorly. Both Frick and I advised her to go to bed, which she did, soon after.

Then I had a conference with Iverson. The coachman was away for the day.

Lastly, I had a talk with the housemaid and cook. Sigrid's maid, Evelina, had been away that afternoon to visit her mother. She had, however, been at Villa Ballarat about six o'clock, but had gone out again immediately, and not yet returned.

What results or conjectures I arrived at after all these investigations, I shall later on return to; for the present, I can only add they were not very satisfying; I began to be afraid that this affair would cause me more trouble and worry than any other business of the kind had hitherto done.

Before I parted from old Frick I got him to write an official notification of the robbery to the police; without this I could not take up the case in earnest.

CHAPTER V

AT THE POLICE STATION

The next morning at eleven o'clock I stood in the police superintendent's office; he had told me to be there at that hour.

I had, for some weeks, figured as chief of the detective department, during my superior's holiday. The latter was applying for a position in another department, and I had had the chief superintendent's assurance that I would be appointed in his place. "I have already spoken to the Minister of the Interior about it, and you can consider the matter as good as settled," were the words with which my superior officer, some days before, had concluded a conversation which had given me great satisfaction. It was soon after I had been fortunate enough in clearing up the celebrated Bjornernd case, and in getting the murderer arrested.

My chief had always been very friendly to me, and treated me, especially of late, almost as a comrade; that is to say, as far as his old-fashioned dignified and solemn manners would allow of it.

He shook me by the hand as soon as I came in, and said:—

"Good morning, take a seat." He beckoned to a constable, standing stiffly in a corner, who then pushed a large armchair toward me. "You can go into the anteroom for the present, Strukstad; I have something to talk over with Mr. Monk.

"You are a lucky fellow, Monk, to have got another interesting affair in hand. I mean the diamond robbery at old Frick's, in Drammen Road. If I know you rightly, you have already made up your mind about the case. From what I have heard you are a friend of the family. Indeed, if I am not very much mistaken, it is not only the diamond which attracts you to the house."

I must confess I was much surprised that my chief should know a secret which I, like all other people in love, believed to be well guarded.

Naturally, I did not enter upon that part of the story, neither did my superior seem to expect it; but I began, as shortly and briefly as possible, to explain to him a little about the state of affairs in the house, and among the occupants.

I afterward gave him an account of the previous day's events.

"As you may know, sir, there was a guest at the house yesterday to dinner. It was old Jurgens, the lawyer; you know him, his collection and his mania for collecting! I have heard that his relations are trying to prove that he is incapable of looking after his own affairs. He is getting imbecile from old age, and is squandering his large fortune by buying up all the world's curios.

"But he is still sharp enough not to let any one pawn off any trash upon him; but if there is an object of real value, one way or another, then he will pay the largest sums without blinking.

"He dined with old Frick. He came, of course, only to see his collection, and he nearly worried the life out of Frick with his importunate requests to be allowed to buy this and that.

"The party at dinner consisted of Jurgens, Frick, Miss Frick, and Mr. Howell. Young Frick had gone away two days before. There were in the house, besides, the cook, the housemaid, and the gardener. The coachman was on a visit to his family at Moss. I have already telephoned to the police there and ascertained that he reached there in the morning and left by the evening train at eight o'clock.

"Miss Frick's maid, Evelina, was also away during the afternoon; she had got permission to go home to her mother, who was ill.

"After dinner they all went into the museum, as the people of the house call the building which I told you about some time ago,—the one which Mr. Frick, upon my advice, had erected out in the garden between the main building and the Drammen Road.

"When they have guests at Villa Ballarat, it is often the custom to serve the coffee in the museum, especially when the guests wish to see the curiosities.

"Jurgens, the lawyer, had then for the twentieth time asked to see the black tortoise, and was persistently pressing Frick to sell it him.

"'I will pay £500 cash for it!' shouted the old man.

"'In the first place it is worth four times as much, my dear Jurgens,' old Frick had replied, 'and besides, I wouldn't sell it at any price.'

"Jurgens then had to relinquish all hopes of obtaining the diamond; but he continued asking to be allowed to buy some of the other curiosities. He was especially struck with a little elephant carved in ivory with a clock in its forehead. The clock-works lie in the animal's body, and the trunk acts as the pendulum. The swinging backward and forward of the trunk has a most comical effect.

"He had no better success with the elephant than he had had with the tortoise; and it was rather a relief to the family when the tiresome old man was taken away by his servant. You know he has some difficulty in walking, and has to be carried about in a wheeled chair, pushed by his servant.

"Frick said good-by to Mr. Jurgens, and was just going to lock the cases, after having put everything in its place, when a cry was heard outside.

"The clumsy servant, who had apparently been drinking, had nearly upset the old man on to one of the flower beds.

"All rushed out from the museum into the garden.

"After having got Mr. Jurgens righted again, and safely outside the gate, they all went into the house. Thus it came about that old Frick forgot to lock both the cupboard with the iron shutters and the door to the museum.

"It was then exactly five o'clock in the afternoon.

"Old Frick went up to his room and took his after-dinner nap. Miss Sigrid went out for a walk; she had been suffering from headache the whole day.

"At six o'clock they met again; she had been back a quarter of an hour, and awaited her uncle with afternoon tea in the sitting-room.

"The two sat together till seven o'clock, drank tea, and went through Sigrid's household accounts.

"At seven the young girl went again for a little walk, as her headache was no better.

"When Frick had seen her to the gate, he suddenly remembered that the door of the museum was not locked, and then he made the discovery that the diamond was gone.

"The gate-keeper Iverson had spent the time between five and half-past seven in the little lodge; he had been busy with some carpentering, and stood at the windows, which looked out on the gate and the road.

"I asked him if any one had passed in or out during that time. The key to the gate hung in the room where he was working, and he had himself let every one in and out.

"Yes, first there was Miss Sigrid, who went out at five and came home in about half an hour or three quarters.

"About six Evelina came home, but went out again at about half-past six.

"About seven o'clock Mr. Howell went out; he had a gun and game-bag, and took a four-wheeler which was passing at the time.

"Soon after, Miss Sigrid again went out, accompanied to the door by Mr. Frick.

"The cook and the housemaid had been in the kitchen or their bedroom the whole time."

"I must say yours is a model of a preliminary report, Mr. Monk; you seem to have got it all by heart, and not even to have made any notes."

"I believe I have a special talent in that respect, sir. I only get confused, if I take down anything except what is absolutely necessary. I can see it much clearer when I've got it in my head."

"Yes, oh yes, each one has his own method! It is at any rate a very useful talent for a detective. But tell me one thing; how can you be so sure that the different times you mention are correct? It is not always that the people in a house are so exact in regard to time."

"As it happens, my statements have been confirmed on that point. Old Frick has a remarkably good pocket chronometer, and he takes a pride in always keeping it correct to the minute.

"Just before Jurgens left, a remark was made how correctly the little watch in the elephant's head kept time. It stands on a shelf just over the cupboard where the diamond had its place. Although it had not been regulated for a long while, it showed the right time to a minute; which was verified by comparing it with the chronometer.

"And thus we have a safe starting-point: the time was five minutes past five.

"Then Mr. Frick takes his afternoon tea precisely at six each day. The servants have got into the habit of being most exact in that respect, as the old man is very particular.

"Finally, Iverson looked at the clock when Mr. Howell left, to see if he would be in time for the train. Mr. Howell had made the remark as he was passing out that the time was ten minutes to seven, which agreed exactly with Iverson's watch.

"As you see, the different times which I have mentioned cannot be far wrong—not more than a minute or two."

"Yes, I see that. I suppose your inquiries at the pawnbrokers' and jewellers' have been so far without result?"

"Yes; up till now they have led to no result, and I think they never will."

The superintendent nodded. Neither of us said as much, but we were both agreed that the thief who could steal an article like the tortoise, which would be so difficult to dispose of, whilst he had plenty of other salable articles to select from, must have had his special reasons, and would not have rushed to his own destruction by trying to dispose of the stolen jewel to a pawnbroker.

"Of course I know," said the superintendent, cheerily, "that you haven't by a long way finished with your investigations. But it would really be interesting to make a few guesses as to who could have taken the diamond. Who can have taken it, do you think?"

I saw that my august superior wanted to discuss the case; and I could not refuse, although I had no mind for it at this stage of the inquiry.

"As far as I can see," I answered, "there are only five persons who could have taken the diamond; the gardener Iverson, Mr. Howell, the maid Evelina, the cook, or the housemaid. All these people had the entry to the garden between five and half past-seven, and also into the museum."

"You forget two people, Mr. Monk."

I stared at him.

"You forget old Frick and Miss Frick."

The superintendent smiled, and I tried also, but it was a sorry attempt, and a most unpleasant feeling crept over me.

The superintendent evidently took notice of this.

"Yes, I speak, of course, from quite a theoretical standpoint. It is part of a policeman's ABC that he must suspect every one as long as the guilty party is not discovered."

"Not every one, sir!" I felt I spoke with an earnestness which was not in harmony with the situation, or with the genial tone of my superior; but I could not get rid of the unpleasant feeling which the mentioning of Sigrid's name had caused me.

"Perhaps you are right, Mr. Monk; in any case, this will not prove the opposite. But tell me, what is really your opinion of Mr. Howell?"

It was obvious that the superintendent wanted to get away as quickly as possible from the subject, which I had been foolish enough to discuss in rather a disagreeable manner, and I felt not a little ashamed of my want of tact.

"It is only right, sir, that you should direct my attention to him. From five o'clock till ten minutes to seven he had the opportunity of taking possession of the diamond and getting away with it from the house. There would be no risk for him to enter the museum; if any of the servants had seen him do it, it would have attracted no attention; he is just like a member of the Frick family.

"That is one side of the case; the other side is that Mr. Howell in every respect gives the impression of being a gentleman, that he is tied by the bond of friendship to the Frick family, and finally that pecuniarily he is so situated that he need not steal either diamonds or anything else."

"Are you sure of this?"

"Yes; I go by what he and old Frick have said; besides, at half-past nine this morning, I called on Wendel, the banker. I myself recommended this highly respected firm to Mr. Howell, and I asked the chief, quite confidentially, how Mr. Howell's account stood.

"He informed me that the latter at the present moment had from three to four hundred pounds standing to his account. It was the remainder of a sum of money he had brought with him in cash and deposited with the banker; besides which, instructions had been received from Messrs. Hambeo and Son, the London bankers, to open an account for Mr. Howell to the amount of two thousand pounds."

"Well, I should be glad if I had such an account at the bank! It does not seem probable that the Englishman should have taken the diamond. By the bye, Mr. Monk, I must not detain you any longer; go on with the matter as you yourself think best; you have, of course, not had much time for inquiries, and I ought, perhaps, not to have been so inquisitive at such an early stage of the investigations; but you must rather look upon our conversation as a kind of refreshment, which I take between the dustbins and the demonstration in the theatre. Well, good luck to you, and let me hear from you as soon as you have anything of interest to report."

The superintendent shook me by the hand.

"Strukstad, let the manager of the theatre come in," he said resignedly, as I went out at the back door.

Later in the day a letter was handed me from the superintendent, marked "Private," which read as follows:—

DEAR MR. MONK,—I have not been able to dismiss old Frick's diamond from my mind. Couldn't it have been lost in quite an ordinary way; fallen on the floor, put on a wrong shelf, or in some such way got astray?

One might also imagine that some one for fun has hidden it, to play old Frick a trick.

I confess it is not likely, but it is still more unlikely that any one should have stolen it—the most unsalable article of all the valuables which you say lay in that cupboard.

I ask you to take this into consideration, and apply the greatest caution in your investigations.

The disappearance of the diamond will soon be the general talk of the town.

It is of the greatest importance that the police should not make fools of themselves. That is to say, they must not let themselves be deceived by people's extraordinary stupidity.

I know your good sense, and in all probability these lines are superfluous.

Yours, etc.

CHAPTER VI

A MORNING VISIT

I did not forget the superintendent's good advice. Immediately after the disappearance of the diamond I searched the whole of Villa Ballarat most carefully.

The servants behaved with exemplary resignation, and offered to open all their trunks. I even took the liberty of searching Mr. Howell's rooms. All his drawers and trunks were open, but contained nothing of interest. My investigations also made it clear that this gentleman had proceeded direct to the station on the day the diamond disappeared, and from there took the train to Elverum.

I don't know how it was, but I always had a misgiving that this young Englishman might have had something to do with the disappearance of the diamond. This, perhaps, was the reason that made me feel, more acutely than ever, that not one of us really knew the young man, in spite of his having been several months in Villa Ballarat. His manners were free and open; but—one did not learn to know him.

I soon placed Iverson, the gardener, the cook, and the housemaid hors de concours. Iverson had for many years shown himself to be a most respectable and reliable person. He was a bachelor, had a nice little sum in the bank, and it was easy to find out about his antecedents. He was the son of well-to-do peasants in Smaalenene, and when quite young had gone into the non-commissioned officers' school and followed a military career, until he entered Frick's service. He had always borne a most irreproachable character.