Part 5 (1/2)

Five or six months. Did he own the house? No. The people who owned the house had gone to Europe for a year and had rented it furnished.

No, Mr. Wynne didn't have a family. He lived there alone except for two servants, a cook and a housemaid. She had never noticed anything unusual about Mr. Wynne, or the servants, or the house. Yes, he went out every day, downtown to business. No, she didn't know what his business was, but she had an idea that he was a broker. That was all.

From a near-by telephone booth the detective detailed Claflin and Malone, who had returned to the office, to keep a sharp watch on the house, after which he walked on to Fifth Avenue, and down Fifth Avenue to the establishment of the H. Latham Company. Mr. Latham would see him--yes. In fact, Mr. Latham, harried by the events of the past two hours, bewildered by a hundred-million-dollar diamond deal which had been thrust down his throat gracefully, but none the less certainly, and ridden by the keenest curiosity, was delighted to see Mr. Birnes.

”I've got his house address all right,” Mr. Birne boasted, in the beginning. Of course it was against the ethics of the profession to tell _how_ he got it.

”Progress already,” commented Mr. Latham with keen interest. ”That's good.”

Then the detective detailed the information he had received from the maid, adding thereto divers and sundry conclusions of his own.

Mr. Latham marveled exceedingly.

”He tried to shake us all right when he went out,” Mr. Birnes went on to explain, ”but the trap was set and there was no escape.”

With certain minor omissions he told of the cab ride to Sixty-seventh Street, the trip across to a downtown car, and, as a matter of convincing circ.u.mstantial detail, added the incident of the empty gripsack.

”Empty?” repeated Mr. Latham, startled. ”Empty, did you say?”

”Empty as a ba.s.s drum,” the detective a.s.sured him complacently. ”He turned it upside down and shook it.”

”Then what became of them?” demanded Mr. Latham.

”Became of what?”

”The diamonds, man--what became of the diamonds?”

”You didn't mention any diamonds to me except those five the other day,” the detective reminded him coldly. ”Your instructions were to find out all about this man--who he is, what he does, where he goes, and the rest. This is my preliminary report. You didn't mention diamonds.”

”I didn't know he would have them,” Mr. Latham exploded irascibly.

”That empty gripsack, man--when he left here he carried millions--I mean a great quant.i.ty of diamonds in it.”

”A great quant.i.ty of --,” the detective began; and then he sat up straight in his chair and stared at Mr. Latham in bewilderment.

”If the gripsack was empty when he was on the car,” Mr. Latham rushed on excitedly, ”then don't you see that he got rid of the diamonds somehow from the time he left here until you saw that the gripsack _was_ empty? How did he get rid of them? Where does he keep them?

And where does he get them?”

Mr. Birnes closed his teeth grimly and his eyes snapped. _Now_ he knew why Mr. Wynne had taken that useless cab ride up Fifth Avenue.

It was to enable him to get rid of the diamonds! There was an accomplice--in detective parlance the second person is always an accomplice--in that closed cab! It had all been prearranged; Mr.

Wynne had deliberately made a monkey of him--Steven Birnes!

Reluctantly the detective permitted himself to remember that he didn't know whether there was anybody in that cab or not when Mr.

Wynne entered it, and--and--! Then he remembered that he did know one thing--_the number of the cab!_

He arose abruptly, with the light of a great determination in his face.

”Whose diamonds were they?” he demanded.

”They were his, as far as we know,” replied Mr. Latham.