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

As they reached the sidewalk, Duvall observed the taxicab he had ordered to be in readiness, standing in front of the door. He helped Grace inside, then turned in some hesitation to the chauffeur. He dared not tell the fellow to drive to the railway station, since Hartmann, who stood beside the cab chatting with Grace, would inevitably hear him. He therefore instructed the man to go to Dr. Hartmann's with the intention of countermanding the order a little later, as soon as they had got out of earshot of the house. He threw open the door, entered the cab, and was about to pull the door shut after him when he felt his wrist seized from behind in a powerful grasp, and before he realized what had happened, Dr. Hartmann had stepped into the cab and closed the door. The chauffeur at once started off at a great rate.

"I'm sure, Mr. Brooks," said the doctor, suavely, as he sat down in the forward seat, his right hand still grasping Duvall's wrist, "that you will not mind taking me home with you. It is a long walk, and I fear there are no other taxicabs in sight."

Duvall looked at him sternly, then attempted to draw away his hand. "What do you mean, monsieur," he asked, harshly, "by detaining me in this manner?" He again tried to free his wrist, but the doctor was too strong for him.

Hartmann smiled pleasantly. "I feared, Mr. Brooks," he said, "that you might be tempted to use the revolver which you have in the pocket of your coat." He reached over quickly with his other hand and drew the revolver from the detective's pocket.

Grace, through all this, had said absolutely nothing. She realized how fatal any interruption by herself might be. She did not know of her husband's intention to leave Brussels that night. She had heard him order the chauffeur to drive to the sanatorium. Perhaps he wished her to return there. In that event, it was imperative that Dr. Hartmann should not know that the supposed Mr. Brooks and herself were anything but the most chance acquaintances.

"Doctor," she cried out, "what are you doing?"

"It seems that Dr. Hartmann has suddenly lost his senses, Miss Ellicott," exclaimed Duvall angrily.

"Quite so, my friend," said the doctor, sarcastically. "Just as our poor friend Seltz lost his. Don't try anything like that," he snarled, suddenly, as Duvall attempted to release his arm with a sudden twist. "I have a few questions I desire to ask you, Mr. Brooks."

"Questions? What are they?"

"I cannot possibly ask them here, in the presence of Miss Ellicott. Perhaps you will oblige me by stepping into my office for a few moments when we arrive at our destination."

"I can spare you five minutes," said Duvall, sullenly. He could not help remembering Dufrenne's advice, and regretted bitterly that he had not followed it. He had been prepared for almost any contingency. As he left the Minister's house, his hand clutched a revolver in the pocket of his coat. There seemed no way in which Hartmann could prevent him from taking Grace to the railway station. He felt so sure of this that he became overconfident. One moment only had he been off guard—the moment when, with his back to Hartmann, he had stepped into the cab. And the latter, seizing upon that instant's slip, had turned the tables upon him so completely that he cursed himself in his chagrin. Here he was, headed for Dr. Hartmann's house, on the outskirts of the town. Once there, the latter's attendants could easily overpower him and carry him into the place helpless. There seemed no possible means of escape. He determined to brazen the matter out, and meet Hartmann on his own ground. Resistance would at this juncture be useless. He congratulated himself that Grace had, by her cleverness, not shown her hand. The doctor evidently did not suspect, at least not very strongly, that she was anything other than she seemed—a patient. He knew he would be searched, and hoped that the place of concealment of the snuff box would defy even Hartmann. After that, he would demand his release, and rely upon Mr. Phelps to get it for him.

He lifted his head and saw that they were at the house. Without loosening his hold upon Duvall's arm, the doctor called to the chauffeur, "Ring the bell." The latter did so. In a moment, a servant appeared. "Send Max and Rudolph here," cried Hartmann, and presently two husky young Germans came out of the house. Hartmann spoke a few quick words to them in their own language and they ranged themselves on either side of the cab door. Then the doctor threw it open, and released the detective's wrist. "Get out, if you please, Mr. Brooks," he said, with a sardonic smile.

When Grace arrived at Dr. Hartmann's that night, she was so utterly astonished by the course which events had taken that she was scarcely able to think. What to do she could not even guess. Here was her husband, the man she loved, in the power of Dr. Hartmann, and there seemed nothing whatever that she could do to help him. Yet how could she go quietly to her room, when Richard might be in the gravest danger? On the other hand, to attempt any resistance, to let the doctor know, by any action on her part, that she and Duvall were working in conjunction, would result in nothing but further disaster. The thought flashed through her mind that by preserving her character of a patient, she might, in the morning, communicate with Mr. Phelps, and secure his assistance in obtaining Richard's freedom.

These considerations came and went in the few seconds required for the little party to enter the hall. Her husband went first. Dr. Hartmann stood aside to permit her to follow him. Duvall turned as she passed through the door, and she heard him whisper, in a voice scarcely audible, "Say nothing." It was the cue she desired. She extended her hand as the doctor came in. "Good-night, Mr. Brooks," she said, quite calmly. "Thank you for bringing me home. I hope we shall meet again, sometime."

"I hope so," Duvall remarked, indifferently, then turned to the doctor. "Now, monsieur, let us have done with this farce as quickly as possible. I have no time to waste."

"Nor have I. Good-night, Miss Ellicott." He nodded pleasantly to Grace as she ascended the stairs, then addressed one of the two attendants. "Where is Herr Mayer?" he asked.

"He is waiting for you in the laboratory, Herr Doctor," the man replied.

"Good! This way, if you please." He motioned down the hall. "Be so good, Mr. Brooks, as to proceed at once."

Duvall started off down the hall in no pleasant frame of mind. The whole affair had been bungled by his stupidity. He passed through the door which Hartmann presently opened at the end of the hall, and found himself in a long narrow passage, lit by a single electric lamp. Hartmann closed the door carefully behind him, and came on down the corridor, his footsteps echoing loudly on the concrete floor.

At the end of the corridor a second door confronted them. It was opened by a tall blond man, with a reddish mustache and brilliant blue eyes. "I heard you coming," he said, nodding to Hartmann, then looked keenly at Duvall. "So this is the fellow, eh? Where shall we take him?"

The doctor pointed to an iron door which faced that by which they had entered. Between the two doors ran a narrow corridor, with an iron staircase to the left, leading upward. "In here," he said, shortly, and going to the door, opened it with a key which he drew from his pocket.

Again Duvall cursed his stupidity. For a moment, thoughts of resistance crossed his mind but he at once realized the hopelessness of it, and followed the doctor into the room. The tall man brought up the rear, closing the door silently after him.

The room was pitch dark. In a moment, however, Hartmann had pressed an electric button, and a brilliant light flooded the place. Duvall looked about him curiously, and in that fleeting glance saw that the room was without windows of any kind, and that the walls, smooth and white, contained no openings whatever, except the door by which they had entered. The floor, as he could tell by its feel under his feet, was of cement. The room was bare of furniture, but he perceived a number of boxes and packing cases standing about the walls.

The instant the door was closed, Hartmann sprang at the detective and grasped his two wrists. The latter had always been considered a powerful man, but the arms and shoulders of the doctor were those of a Hercules. "Search him, Mayer," he said, as he pinned Duvall's wrists together in his iron grip.

The man addressed as Mayer at once began a systematic search of Duvall's person. With deft fingers he explored his pockets, felt the linings of his clothing, tore through the contents of his pocketbook. The opera hat had fallen to the floor, in the short struggle which ensued when the detective found himself in Hartmann's grasp. Mayer picked it up, glanced at it carelessly, then threw it angrily into a corner, where it rolled unobserved, into the shadow of a large box.

"There is nothing here," he said, in a voice of keen disappointment. "He must have hidden it elsewhere."

"In his room at the hotel, perhaps—his portmanteau," the doctor said, eagerly, releasing Duvall's hands and throwing him to one side with some violence.

Mayer looked grave. "I have searched everything thoroughly. It is not there."

The doctor muttered an oath. "The other—the old Frenchman?"

"He was arrested to-night on a charge of irregularity in his passport. Nothing discovered. He will be released in the morning."

"Teufel!" The doctor swore excitedly in German. "Then the other one—the one who was in charge of Seltz—he must have it."

"No. He also has been searched, with the same results."

"May I ask what you are looking for?" asked Duvall, calmly.

"You know, well enough, Duvall," exclaimed Mayer, turning on him. "Oh, yes—I know your name. The examination of your baggage showed that. As soon as I wired to London and discovered that the man Seltz had left there last night, I knew how we had been fooled. One of our men saw the snuff box in your possession just before you left the hotel to go to the house of Mr. Phelps. What have you done with it?"

Duvall regarded his questioner calmly. "I do not know what you are talking about, gentlemen. I have no snuff box, nor do I use tobacco in that form. And now, if you have concluded this outrage upon an American citizen, perhaps you will let me return quietly to my hotel. If you do not, I promise you you shall pay heavily for it."

His words, for the moment, seemed to disconcert the two men. Then Mayer laughed, "Nothing but bluff, young man—American bluff. I know who you are. You followed Seltz here from London, and got the snuff box from him by a trick. Now tell us where it is."

The detective smiled. "I do not know what you are talking about," he said, quietly.

Dr. Hartmann growled out an oath. "Take off his things, Mayer. He may have the box in his clothing somewhere—or the heel of his boot. I'll get a dressing-gown, from above." He left the room, and Duvall heard him clanking up the iron staircase.

"If you insist on removing my clothes," he said to Mayer, "I prefer to do so myself." He rapidly stripped off his evening suit and shoes, and threw them upon the floor.

The man gathered them up, feeling each article carefully, and testing the heels of the boots with a knife which he drew from his pocket. He appeared greatly disappointed at not finding the object of