The Black Box. E. Phillips Oppenheim

right hand.”

      Quest examined the fastenings of the window before which he had paused during his previous examination. He turned away with a shrug of the shoulders.

      “See you later, Mr. Ashleigh,” he concluded laconically. “Nothing more to be done at present.”

      The Professor followed him to the door.

      “Mr. Quest,” he said, his voice broken with emotion, “it is the work of my lifetime of which I am being robbed. You will use your best efforts, you will spare no expense? I am rich. Your fee you shall name yourself.”

      “I shall do my best,” Quest promised, “to find the skeleton. Come, Lenora. Good morning, gentlemen!”

      With his new assistant, Quest walked slowly from the museum and turned towards his home.

      “Make anything of this, Lenora?” he asked her.

      She smiled.

      “Of course not,” she answered. “It looks as though the skeleton had been taken away through that window.”

      Quest nodded.

      “Marvellous!” he murmured.

      “You are making fun of me,” she protested.

      “Not I! But you see, my young friend, the point is this. Who in their senses would want to steal an anthropoid skeleton except a scientific man, and if a scientific man stole it out of sheer jealousy, why in thunder couldn’t he be content with just mutilating it, which would have destroyed its value just as well—What’s that?”

      He stopped short. A newsboy thrust the paper at them. Quest glanced at the headlines. Lenora clutched at his arm. Together they read in great black type—

      ESCAPE OF CONVICTED PRISONER!

       MACDOUGAL, ON HIS WAY TO PRISON,

       GRAPPLES WITH SHERIFF AND JUMPS

       FROM TRAIN! STILL AT LARGE

       THOUGH SEARCHED FOR BY

       POSSE OF POLICE

2.

       Table of Contents

      The windows of Mrs. Rheinholdt’s town house were ablaze with light. A crimson drugget stretched down the steps to the curbstone. A long row of automobiles stood waiting. Through the wide-flung doors was visible a pleasant impression of flowers and light and luxury. In the nearer of the two large reception rooms Mrs. Rheinholdt herself, a woman dark, handsome, and in the prime of life, was standing receiving her guests. By her side was her son, whose twenty-first birthday was being celebrated.

      “I wonder whether that professor of yours will come,” she remarked, as the stream of incoming guests slackened for a moment. “I’d love to have him here, if it were only for a moment. Every one’s talking about him and his work in South America.”

      “He hates receptions,” the boy replied, “but he promised he’d come. I never thought, when he used to drill science into us at the lectures, that he was going to be such a tremendous big pot.”

      Mrs. Rheinholdt’s plump fingers toyed for a moment complacently with the diamonds which hung from her neck.

      “You can never tell, in a world like this,” she murmured. “That’s why I make a point of being civil to everybody. Your laundry woman may become a multimillionaire, or your singing master a Caruso, and then, just while their month’s on, every one is crazy to meet them. It’s the Professor’s month just now.”

      “Here he is, mother!” the young man exclaimed suddenly. “Good old boy! I thought he’d keep his word.”

      Mrs. Rheinholdt assumed her most encouraging and condescending smile as she held out both hands to the Professor. He came towards her, stooping a little more than usual. His mouth had drooped a little and there were signs of fatigue in his face. Nevertheless, his answering smile was as delightful as ever.

      “This is perfectly sweet of you, Professor,” Mrs. Rheinholdt declared. “We scarcely ventured to hope that you would break through your rule, but Philip was so looking forward to have you come. You were his favourite master at lectures, you know, and now—well, of course, you have the scientific world at your feet. Later on in the evening, Professor,” she added, watching some very important newcomers, “you will tell me all about your anthropoid ape, won’t you? Philip, look after Mr. Ashleigh. Don’t let him go far away.”

      Mrs. Rheinholdt breathed a sigh of relief as she greeted her new arrivals.

      “Professor Ashleigh, brother of Lord Ashleigh, you know,” she explained. “This is the first house he has been to since his return from South America. You’ve heard all about those wonderful discoveries, of course. …”

      The Professor made himself universally agreeable in a mild way, and his presence created even more than the sensation which Mrs. Rheinholdt had hoped for. In her desire to show him ample honour, she seldom left his side.

      “I am going to take you into my husband’s study,” she suggested, later on in the evening. “He has some specimens of beetles—”

      “Beetles,” the Professor declared, with some excitement, “occupied precisely two months of my time while abroad. By all means, Mrs. Rheinholdt!”

      “We shall have to go quite to the back of the house,” she explained, as she led him along the darkened passage.

      The Professor smiled acquiescently. His eyes rested for a moment upon her necklace.

      “You must really permit me, Mrs. Rheinholdt,” he exclaimed, “to admire your wonderful stones! I am a judge of diamonds, and those three or four in the centre are, I should imagine, unique.”

      She held them out to him. The Professor laid the end of the necklace gently in the palm of his hand and examined them through a horn-rimmed eyeglass.

      “They are wonderful,” he murmured—“wonderful! Why—”

      He turned away a little abruptly. They had reached the back of the house and a door from the outside had just been opened. A man had crossed the threshold with a coat over his arm, and was standing now looking at them.

      “How extraordinary!” the Professor remarked. “Is that you, Craig?”

      For a moment there was no answer. The servant was standing in the gloom of an unlit portion of the passage. His eyes were fixed curiously upon the diamonds which the Professor had just been examining. He seemed paler, even, than usual.

      “Yes, sir!” he replied. “There is a rain storm, so I ventured to bring your mackintosh.”

      “Very thoughtful,” the Professor murmured approvingly. “I have a weakness,” he went on, turning to his hostess, “for always walking home after an evening like this. In the daytime I am content to ride. At night I have the fancy always to walk.”

      “We don’t walk half enough.” Mrs. Rheinholdt sighed, glancing down at her somewhat portly figure. “Dixon,” she added, turning to the footman who had admitted Craig, “take Professor Ashleigh’s servant into the kitchen and see that he has something before he leaves for home. Now, Professor, if you will come this way.”

      They reached a little room in the far corner of the house. Mrs. Rheinholdt apologised as she switched on the electric lights.

      “It is a queer little place to bring you to,” she said, “but my husband used to spend many hours here, and he would never allow anything to be moved. You see, the specimens are in these cases.”

      The Professor nodded. His general attitude towards the forthcoming exhibition was merely one of politeness. As the first case was opened, however, his manner completely changed. Without