Part 17 (1/2)

”I made no mistake when I christened that boy Christopher Mark Antony Burton, fourth,” announced he, as if every whit of responsibility for the boy's good judgment were traceable to his name. ”He has the stuff in him--has had since babyhood.”

But Mr. Inspector did not wholly agree.

”You've got to do more than have good blood in your veins,” he a.s.serted, with a hint of scorn. ”The young one used his brains, he did, and used 'em quick without thanks to his ancestors. Had he loitered about and depended on his great-grandfather, Stuart would have got away.”

There was a general laugh, in which even Mr. Burton, chagrined though he was, joined.

Afterward the two police officers, Christopher, his father, Mr.

Rhinehart, and Hollings rolled away to headquarters to identify the captured diamond thief.

CHAPTER IX

CHRISTOPHER RECOGNIZES AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

Yes, it was Stuart! There could be no possible doubt about that; nor, indeed, did the culprit attempt to deny his ident.i.ty. Perhaps he realized that to do so would be futile. There he was in his wig, whiskers, gla.s.ses, ulster, and slouch hat; and the next moment, presto, valeted by Mr. Inspector, there he was in his fur coat--the elegant gentleman who had invaded Burton and Norcross' jewelry store!

Hollings recognized him in a twinkling and without a shade of hesitation singled him out from twelve other men; so, also, did Mr. Rhinehart and Christopher.

Poor Stuart! He was too genuine a sport to whine when he saw the game was up. On the contrary he a.s.sumed a good-natured, almost humorous stoicism, as if his capture were nothing more than a feature of the day's work. Only one fact regarding it did he appear to resent and that was that a person wary as himself should have been tracked down and trapped by a mere boy. Incontestably this wounded his pride.

Nevertheless he tried valiantly to conceal his chagrin, maintaining throughout the ordeal of identification his jaunty pose and saluting Christopher, whom he instantly remembered having seen on the car, with a mocking bow and a smile of admiration.

”It was a neat trick you played me, youngster,” announced he, as the lad approached. ”They will be annexing you to the staff here if you don't look out.”

”I had to do it, you know,” Christopher answered, half apologizing for the double-faced role he had played. ”I'm not usually a squealer--honest, I'm not. But the diamonds belonged to my father, and I saw you take them.”

”Of course, sonny, of course. I'm not kicking--it was a fair game,” the big fellow returned without a shadow of anger. ”So you saw me take them, did you? Why didn't you sing out at the time?”

”It all happened so quickly that I could hardly trust my eyes,” was the response. ”Besides, you looked so much like a gentleman that I couldn't believe you were just a--a--”

”Thief,” cut in Stuart sharply, supplying the word at which the boy had halted. Nevertheless despite the glibness with which he uttered it, he cringed and a flood of telltale color rose to his hair. It was the first time he had exhibited the slightest feeling.

Uncomfortably Christopher nodded.

”Well, that's what I am, you see,” continued the man who had now regained his former debonnaire manner, ”so the next time look out and don't be taken in. There are gentlemen who are thieves, sonny, and then again there are thieves who are gentlemen--at least I hope so.”

So unruffled was his temper, so brave the front he put on the inevitable, that as Christopher saw him led away between two guards a momentary pang of regret pa.s.sed over him. If Stuart had only happened to have turned his talents to some profession besides diamond stealing, what a delightful acquaintance he might have proved.

But the next instant Corrigan, the head inspector, broke in on this reverie, and his words banished further repining:

”The scoundrel won't open his lips,” declared he to Mr. Burton. ”What he's done with those diamonds we can't find out. He's mum as an oyster.

I hoped we might tempt him into making a clean breast of the matter--but not he! He's too hardened a chap for repentance, I reckon.”

”His pal, Tony, may have them.”

”No doubt,” acquiesced the chief. ”The two probably have a cache where they stow their loot.”

”I wish we could find it.”