The Ivory Snuff Box by Frederic Arnold Kummer (best biographies to read .txt) 📖

card. It was one of many which he carried for such emergencies, and bore the name of Stephen Brooks.

"Yes," he said, pleasantly. "I came to consult you concerning a curious case."

"Indeed!" The doctor looked at the card carelessly. "I see that you are an American." He began to speak in English. "Sit down, please."

"Thank you." Duvall took a chair.

"What is the nature of the case, may I ask?"

"Doctor—I've heard so much of your wonderful cures—of your remarkable success in treating mental disorders, that I have ventured to come to you in the hope that you may be able to help me."

The doctor smiled, not displeased at the other's flattery. "What is the cause of your trouble, Mr. Brooks?"

Duvall observed him thoughtfully for a moment. "If a person has delusions upon one particular subject, is he on that account necessarily insane?"

"Not at all. Manias of various sorts are not uncommon, and generally curable. Why do you ask?"

"Because I want you to treat such a case."

The doctor considered his patient narrowly. "Of course, you understand, Mr. Brooks, that my professional charges are very high."

Duvall took out his pocketbook and removing from it a note for a hundred francs, laid it carelessly on the table. "I have understood so, Doctor," he remarked. "Luckily I am a man of considerable wealth."

"In that event," Hartmann remarked, eying the bill in a gratified way, "I am at your service. What is the nature of your complaint?"

"It isn't about myself that I have come," Duvall hastened to inform him. "It concerns a man in my employ—my valet, to be exact."

"Your valet?" The doctor frowned, and made as though to rise. "My dear sir—"

"One moment, please, Doctor. The man is a most worthy fellow. He has been in my service for years. A Belgian, too, I think. I have a very high regard for him—an excellent servant, except for the peculiar delusions with which he has lately become possessed."

"I fear that I cannot undertake his treatment, Mr. Brooks. I receive only a few patients, and those of the highest standing."

"I know that. I did not propose to have the man quartered here in your house. I merely want you to examine him, in order that I may find out whether his case is curable or not. If it is, I shall take him to Paris and place him under treatment—if not, I must, of course, discharge him. It is for that reason that I have come to you."

"What are the man's symptoms?" asked the doctor, shortly.

"He imagines, from time to time, that he has been robbed."

"That is by no means uncommon. I have seen many such cases. Are these delusions confined to any one subject?"

"No. At times he fancies that money has been taken from him. At other times, jewelry that he has never possessed. Once he accused me of robbing him of a pair of shoes, and demanded that I pay him a large sum of money for them. I have generally succeeded in quieting him by assuring him that the stolen articles would be forthcoming later on."

"Excellent. And how long has this condition been in evidence?"

"About a month, now. During the past week, however, the attacks have been more frequent. Last night he informed me that someone had taken from him a diamond ring—of course he had never owned one—and wanted five thousand francs in return. I assured him that I would get him the money this morning."

"The case does not seem particularly difficult, Mr. Brooks, from what you tell me. Of course I could determine better after a personal examination."

"Exactly. And if you find no other conditions of an alarming nature, you think a cure possible?"

"Undoubtedly. When can I see the man?"

Duvall took out his watch. "I requested him to meet me here to-day at noon," he said. "I did not tell him he was coming for a medical examination. He might have refused to come. I let him think that you might be able to recover the diamond ring he thinks has been stolen from him. I thought it best to humor him. I should have brought him with me, but he had arranged to go this morning to see his people, who live in the town. He was to come directly here, after leaving them." He went over to the window and looked toward the road. "I am surprised that he is so late. Usually he is punctuality itself."

The doctor rose. "No doubt he will be here very soon," he remarked. "You can wait here, if you like. I will join you on his arrival. Meanwhile, as I have some matters to attend to in my office, I beg that you will excuse me." He opened the door at the rear of the room, which led to his private office. "When the man arrives, kindly let me know."

Duvall glanced toward the door through which Dr. Hartmann had just passed, then paused for several moments, listening; then he walked noiselessly across the room, and paused before the study door. Within all was quiet. Stooping down, he applied his eye to the keyhole. Dr. Hartmann sat at a large rosewood desk, busily writing.

With a smile of satisfaction the detective arose, and going to the door which led to the hall, drew from the lock the key which stood in it, and then, opening the door slightly, inserted the key in the lock on the other side of the door. As he did so, he peered out across the hall, and for a moment the key almost dropped from his fingers. There, facing him, sat Grace, his wife, whom he had supposed to be safely in Paris. The sight for a moment completely upset him—he paused, gazing at her with an expression of incredulity.

Grace rose, and came toward her husband, her face pale, her lips parted. "Richard," she whispered softly, then became suddenly silent as he pressed his finger to his lips.

As they stood there thus, facing each other in grave uncertainty, Duvall heard the sound of a vehicle being driven up the graveled road. He glanced toward the glass entrance door and saw a cab approaching the house, in which sat Seltz. He turned to Grace, and spoke in a voice so low as to be scarcely audible.

"Open the door at once—before the man can ring. Pretend to be a maid. Show him in here immediately. Quick." He withdrew into the waiting-room, leaving Grace staring at him in amazement. For a moment she hesitated. It seemed so cruel, to be this near to him, and yet to not even be able to touch his hand! Then she went quickly to the front door and threw it open as Seltz came up the steps.

CHAPTER XI

Richard Duvall, alone in Dr. Hartmann's outer office, had not long to wait. He had hardly succeeded in throwing off the agitation which the unexpected sight of Grace had caused him, when the door from the hall was opened, and Grace admitted Seltz to the room.

The latter glanced at Duvall with a curious look, but said nothing. Grace withdrew, closing the door quietly after her. The detective went up to the newcomer and addressed him in a low tone.

"You are Oscar Seltz, from London?" he asked, bluntly.

The man appeared greatly taken back. "Yes," he said, haltingly. "I wish to see Dr. Hartmann."

"About the snuff box, of course?"

Again the man started. "Who are you?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

"I am Dr. Hartmann's assistant. He has been waiting for you. You have the box with you, of course?"

The man felt carefully in his pocket, and presently drew out a small object done up in paper. "Yes, I have it. The price was to be twenty-five hundred francs."

"That is correct," remarked the detective. "Give it to me."

Seltz drew back his hand. "I want the money first, and I cannot deliver it to any one but Dr. Hartmann."

"Dr. Hartmann is in the next room," said Duvall, with a pleasant smile. "He has the money all ready for you. I will call him. But first, let me see if you have really secured what we want." He held out his hand. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I shall not leave the room. The box will not be out of your sight."

Seltz appeared to consider the matter for a brief moment, but the detective's manner reassured him. He extended the package toward Duvall. "It is there, all right," he laughed, softly. "And a hard time I had getting it."

Without making any comment, Duvall took the package, quickly tore off the coarse paper wrappings, and saw inside a small round ivory box, its top ornamented with a number of small pearls, arranged in a circular design about its circumference. He glanced swiftly at it, crushed the paper into his pocket, then started toward the door at the rear.

"Where are you going?" demanded Seltz, harshly, his hand going toward his pocket, as though for a weapon.

"To call the doctor, my man," Duvall replied. "Don't excite yourself. He will be here in a moment, with your money." Without a moment's hesitation he crossed to the study door and tapped lightly upon it. As he did so, his back was toward Seltz, hence the latter did not see the swift movement, by which he conveyed the snuff box to the pocket of his waistcoat. When, after a few moments' delay, Dr. Hartmann appeared on the threshold, Duvall's hands were both quite empty.

As the doctor entered the room, the detective gave a quick nod toward Seltz. "My man," he remarked, in a low tone. "He seems to be rather bad, this morning;" then aloud, "Oscar, this is Doctor Hartmann."

Seltz bowed, then stood uncomfortably, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as the doctor bent upon him a searching glance. "Sit down, my good fellow," the latter presently remarked, as he took a chair.

"I—I don't think I had better, sir," he stammered. "I am in somewhat of a hurry—"

The doctor interrupted him, in a soothing voice. "There, there. Sit down. I want to talk to you."

Seltz glanced helplessly toward Duvall, apparently somewhat confused by the reception which Dr. Hartmann had accorded him. It was not entirely what he had expected.

"I have explained everything to the doctor," remarked Duvall hastily. "He understands about the money you requested." He looked significantly at Dr. Hartmann.

"Then I hope the matter can be settled at once," said Seltz, apparently much relieved. He made no movement to sit down, but continued to look expectantly at Dr. Hartmann.

The latter nodded in a grave and reassuring way. "Give yourself no uneasiness, my man. Everything will be satisfactorily arranged. Meanwhile, sit down, if you please, and tell me something about yourself. I understand you have been greatly worried, of late. Not quite yourself—let us say."

Seltz looked at him in blank amazement. "I haven't been worried by anything, except the business which brought me here. I want my money—"

"Exactly—exactly," the doctor assented, in a soothing voice. "You shall have your money in due time. I promise you that. But first sit down and let us have a little chat."

Seltz sat down, helplessly. Apparently he was at a loss as to just what to say next. The doctor had told him that the money he expected would be forthcoming—he resigned himself in patience to await the latter's pleasure. For a moment he glanced at Duvall, however. "You should not have taken it from me," he said, peevishly.

Duvall looked quickly at Dr. Hartmann. The latter at once spoke up. "Give the matter no further thought, my man," he said, gravely. "I will see that you are fairly treated. But before we go ahead, I want you to tell me more about yourself—your life—your amusements—"

"What the devil have my amusements got to do with the matter?" exclaimed Seltz, his voice trembling with anger. "I tell you I want my money."

"And I tell you you shall have it. But, now, I insist that you let the matter drop for the present and answer my