‘Really, Williams,’ said Mr Barnes, ‘all I see in your story is that Mr Mitchel, contemplating a little trip off somewhere with friends, let you go away. He expected to be back by Monday, but, enjoying himself, has remained longer.’
‘I hope that’s all, sir, and I’ve tried to think so. But this morning I made a few investigations of my own, and I’m bound to say what I found don’t fit that theory.’
‘Ah! You have some more facts! What are they?’
‘One of them is this cablegram that I found only this morning under a book on the table in the library.’ He handed a blue paper to Mr Barnes, who took it and read the following, on a cable blank:
‘Emerald. Danger. Await letter.’
For the first time during the interview, Mr Barnes’s face assumed a really serious expression. He studied the dispatch silently for a full minute, and then, without raising his eyes, said:
‘What else?’
‘Well, Inspector, I don’t know that this has anything to do with the affair, but the master had a curious sort of jacket, made of steel links, so tight and so closely put together, that I’ve often wondered what it was for. Once I made so bold as to ask him, and he said, said he: “Williams, if I had an enemy, it would be a good idea to wear that, because it would stop a bullet or a knife.” Then he laughed, and went on, “Of course, I shan’t need it for myself. I bought it when I was abroad once, merely as a curiosity.” Now, Inspector, that jacket’s disappeared also.’
‘Are you quite sure?’
‘I’ve looked from dining room to garret for it. The master’s derringer is missing, too. It’s a mighty small affair. Could be held in the hand without being noticed, but it carries a nasty-looking ball.’
‘Very well, Williams, there may be something in your story. I’ll look into the matter at once. Meanwhile, go home, and stay there so that I may find you if I want you.’
‘Yes, sir; I thank you for taking it up. It takes a load off my mind to know you’re in charge, Inspector. If there’s harm come to the master, I’m sure you’ll track the party down. Good morning, sir!’
‘Good morning, Williams.’
After the departure of Williams, the detective sat still for several minutes, lost in thought. He was weighing two ideas. He seemed still to hear the words which Mr Mitchel had uttered after his success in unravelling the mystery of Mr Goldie’s lost identity. ‘Next time I will assign myself the chief role,’ or words to that effect, Mr Mitchel had said. Was this disappearance a new riddle for Mr Barnes to solve? If so, of course, he would undertake it as a sort of challenge which his professional pride could not reject. On the other hand, the cable dispatch and the missing coat-of-mail might portend ominously. The detective felt that Mr Mitchel was somewhat in the position of the fabled boy who cried ‘Wolf’ so often, that when at last the wolf really appeared, no assistance was sent to him. Only Mr Barnes decided that he must chase the ‘wolf’, whether it be real or imaginary. He wished, though, that he knew which.
Ten minutes later he decided upon a course of action, and proceeded to a telegraph office, where he found that, as he had supposed, the dispatch had come from the Paris firm of jewellers from which Mr Mitchel had frequently bought gems. He sent a lengthy message to them, asking for an immediate reply.
While waiting for the answer, the detective was not inactive. He went direct to Mr Mitchel’s house, and once more questioned the valet, from whom he obtained an accurate description of the clothes which his master must have worn, only one suit being absent. This fact alone seemed significantly against the theory of a visit to friends out of town. Next, Mr Barnes interviewed the neighbours, none of whom remembered to have seen Mr Mitchel during the week. At the sixth house below, however, he learned something definite. Here he found Mr Mordaunt, a personal acquaintance, and member of one of Mr
